THE CAROLINA CONNECTION Book 3 part 3: COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS
by Singing Silverwings
Summary: The circle of Tony's MCRT expands. An agent is kidnapped. Why? Who? Where? Tim and Marty find life-threatening danger when they least expect it. Friendship/Romance/Drama/a bit of humor. Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee, Ducky, Morrow, Fornell; OCs Molly MacKenzie, Roger, Marty O'Brien, Jon Cartwright, Aneesa, Samantha Wolfe and others.
1. Chapter 1

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 1

Things had been topsy-turvy for days on end now and it made solving cases that much harder. Packing boxes were stacked everywhere filled with files, general office supplies and, invariably, things not intended to be shipped en mass, such as personal cellphones, wouldn't be discovered until many frantic days later.

Tony finally walked to the cove under the stairs and just stood with his forehead resting against the cool wall. He had a headache of monumental proportions and would give most anything to just go into the cool, quiet, darkened sanctuary he called home.

Everybody was short-tempered but trying with varying degrees of success to keep themselves in check. Tony had a collection of reports to turn in but, at the moment, there was nowhere to turn them in _to_. There was hammering, banging, raised voices as different workmen called back and forth as they tended to their tasks. Half of the computers were down and wouldn't be back up until after the move. Yesterday, moves were completed for both Autopsy and the Lab making it impossible for teams to check for updates because the phones in the new building had different numbers which, of course, were not available here.

Director Morrow had already made the move to the new headquarters office at Quantico and, though Gibbs was staying at the new Washington Field Office at Bolling, he was _there_ and the rest of them were still _here_. Tony had had enough.

His team sat looking at each other, each unhappy with their current status but trying mightily to 'be nice.' His natural leadership abilities coming to the fore, Tony made what he termed 'an executive decision', walking back into the midst of their bullpen. "Grab some boxes, put all your stuff in 'em!"

He stood and stuffed all of the reports and other papers into one file and put them into his go-bag. Throwing his personal items from the desk and file cabinets in on top of the file, he cleared everything he owned from the bullpen.

Exchanging quick glances with each other, the team followed his order and had the place emptied of all their belongings and gear in a remarkably short time. Seeing his team ready and looking at him, he grinned and said, "With me, your vehicles."

John Balboa and Rob Johansson, having seen Tony's plan, joined in, issuing the same orders to their teams. Suddenly the room was bustling with purpose and smiles. Time to get out of Dodge!

It wasn't long at all until a _long_ convoy of personal vehicles arrived at the gate at Joint Base Bolling-Anacostia across the river and downstream just a bit from their old office. Driving the lead car, Tony stopped, showed his creds and badge to the Security Officer, then jerked his thumb at the long line of traffic behind him, "Got more behind me. Reporting to the new NCIS Washington Field Office."

Not expecting all these people yet, the guard at the gate ordered Tony to stay put until he received permission to enter. In the Security booth, he picked up a phone, spoke briefly to someone while gesturing wildly with his hands, then stepped out with resignation and waved the agent through. As others were cleared, they fell in line behind the leader of MCRT One and headed for their new facility on the base.

* * *

In his huge new office upstairs above the massive primary squad-room that would easily accommodate six MCRTs, Gibbs sighed. It was a nice office that occupied most of the upper portion of a second floor that overlooked the squad room, much like the one at the Navy Yard, but he wondered what he was supposed to do with all that room. The balcony at the top of the stairs felt familiar, though. He knew the teams would begin arriving in the days to come, but he felt singularly isolated at the moment.

His lips twitched as his eyes wandered over the surrounding walls. Gone was the hated orange color they had endured for so many years before this move. Now they had very pleasing shades of soft blue and a light gray with sparkling white trim. He had to admit it looked good. Even kinda classy. Made the dark blue carpets look much better than the standard-grade US Government carpets that they actually were.

In his office, pouring himself another cup of coffee from his personal coffee machine given to him by his former MCRT, he heard voices and shuffling and thumps coming from the new squad room. Shouldn't be anyone down there; the work was complete and only the carefully arranged move-in schedule that would settle everyone in was left to be accomplished.

Wait a minute. One of those voices sounded awfully familiar. He rose from his desk and walked to his door, then stood on the balcony, watching in amazement as DiNozzo directed his team to a choice bullpen closest to the wide, bright windows near the foot of the stairs. Slightly rearranging desks to suit themselves, DC's MCRT One was moving in, followed by John Balboa's MCRT Two, Rob Johansson's MCRT Three and several others he didn't yet know.

Filing cabinets were rearranged to suit the new tenants; tall, movable dividers were adjusted to everyone's satisfaction, and smiles gradually replaced initial frowns. Once the furniture moving part was complete, personal belongings and small momentoes that were meaningful to the owners began making their appearances on desks and small cork boards in the individual work spaces.

By the time all that was settled, plants were placed to their best advantage by those who had brought them along. Computers were being booted up and office supplies were stowed where each team wanted them. New desk telephone numbers were entered into cell phones, etc. and a general hubbub made a pleasant background sound.

Tony looked at his large team, seeing that each was making his or her own little adjustments to their new home, getting comfortable. Glancing upstairs, he spotted Gibbs quietly watching all of them. "Hey, Boss! Place is beginning to look like home!"

"Aren't you a little early, DiNozzo?"

"Couldn't work back at the Yard. Half of everything wasn't there anymore. Workmen everywhere. Didn't even have a place to put reports I'd signed off. Thought it was time to make the move."

"I'm sure HR will be pleased."

Tony blinked. HR? He grinned. "We're here. That's what counts, huh, Boss?"

With a weary sigh, Gibbs shook his head and turned away toward his office door to hide his grin. Leave it to DiNozzo to take things in hand and lead everyone here. Apparently it was a smooth and surprisingly efficient operation. Each person was responsible for moving all of his/her own stuff and putting it away. Much better than the complicated circus HR had dictated on paper to be done.

The big squad room grew quieter as each agent began logging into computers, setting programs, etc., entering passwords and all the things required to getting an electronic system setup properly. Tim was extra busy helping others as he supplied the know-how to unscramble the few things that always seemed to need it where electronics are concerned.

Yesterday he had advised his teammates to put everything they wanted to keep from their old computers onto flash-drives to be downloaded into their new ones. Simple, easy and efficient. The word was passed along to others, so even that aspect was taken care of in advance of their move.

Molly let Roger walk slowly around, allowing him to sniff and orient himself to their new surroundings. Everything smelled different but the people were the same. He directed his eyes to the flight of stairs then looked at his human.

Molly smiled. "Wanna go upstairs? Okay, c'mon!"

He immediately picked up Gibbs' scent but the other human who had lived upstairs was completely missing. He looked at his human called Molly, asking her with his eyes. "The Director is at a different place, Rog. Jethro and MTAC are the only things up here besides a couple of conference rooms. Let's go see Jethro!"

Tapping on the door, the two entered the outer office, then into the inner office. Tail wagging, Roger headed straight for his other human called Jethro to be petted and satisfactorily scratched in his favorite places. He sniffed around, pleased that he detected nothing dangerous. In fact, the overwhelming odor to his highly refined sense of smell was that stuff his second human consumed almost constantly. The shepherd didn't know what it was but the human seemed to have a constant craving for it. He was pleased that everything was as it should be.

Gibbs' office was quite nice, very much in overall appearance as his previous one. There were several major differences, however, such as _size_ and four large windows.

Molly was happy to see that he'd made sure the plants she had placed in his old office were here, as well, sitting happily in spots that were optimum for their individual sun requirements. He now had a lovely credenza right behind his desk chair which held his coffee machine, mugs and tea set. He wouldn't even have to get out of his chair to refill his cup.

"Looks great in here. How do ya like it?"

"Not sure. Think it'll be okay."

His wife smiled and looked at him with a tilt of her head, giving him a slightly sideways look. "Would you ever admit it if you did like it?"

A lop-sided smile slipped of out his smile lock-box and he looked a little bashful or shy, answering with a slight one-shouldered shrug.

She was surprised to see several framed photos sitting on the credenza; one of Jethro and her on their wedding day that Tim had taken, one of her and Casey, one of Roger leaping up to catch his ball, one taken from behind of her walking with Roger down a leaf-strewn sidewalk, and one of Tim and her preflighting Gulfstream One-Niner Foxtrot.

Gibbs watched the soft expression on her face as she studied the photos, then looked at him with a soft smile on her lips. "I love them," she whispered.

"Hoped you would," his voice deep, soft and gentle.

She hadn't known that he'd taken to carrying a small camera in a pocket to capture moments or candid scenes that were important to him.

* * *

In a few days, everyone seemed to have settled in and the teams were working well in their new environment, enjoying having more space, more natural light and more comfortable desk chairs than previously. And, _no_ orange walls!

DiNozzo and his team - Tim, Jon, Marty, Molly and Sam - had arranged their desks in what appeared to be a loose oval so each could easily see all the others and the placement of the plasma screen could be seen from every desk.

Balboa's team had done much the same thing and both felt very comfortable with the arrangement, even though it was not 'HR approved'. With a dark, grim expression, the head of that department had marched determinedly upstairs to see Gibbs and returned to the main floor only moments later, deflated and red-faced. They all grinned; there were definitely benefits in having Gibbs as your immediate superior, since no one had yet been appointed as head of the Washington field office.

Whenever there was time not working on a case, each of the agents wandered around their new building, acquainting themselves with what was where. On this same level were spacious quarters for both Autopsy and Labs that could easily accommodate the additional employees who would be working in each.

In Autopsy, Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Donald Mallard had a very nice, light-filled office that would serve him well.

There was a smaller office which would accommodate the needs of the Deputy Chief ME, one Dr. James Palmer, MD.

Neither would Dr. Palmer have to do the 'scut work' of cleaning utensils and instruments, etc, as five new Autopsy Assistants would serve in those capacities for Dr. Mallard, Dr. Palmer, Dr. Jordan Hampton and two other MEs who had yet to be selected from the long list of applicants.

The new lab was expansive, with duplicate equipment for Dr. Dave Holland, Abby Scuito, and three new forensic scientists who were being scrutinized by Dave who was now Chief of Forensic Sciences. Each scientist would have an assistant so their work should be able to flow much better.

Abby had adjusted to Dave, but she had reservations about adding more scientists and all the assistants. She kept having flashbacks of her experiences with Chip Sterling. She had even dared to go upstairs to talk to Gibbs but, though he was understanding of her psychological difficulties, he had more or less told her that the plans in place were being implemented and she had to adapt if she wanted to remain with NCIS.

She decided she give it a go and hope for the best. If she couldn't handle it, then she'd have to go elsewhere. Though she'd much rather stay here, things at NCIS had changed so much from those earlier years and she rarely saw Gibbs or the teams now. If she had to make a change, there were plenty of offers waiting for her at greatly increased compensation for her expertise.

* * *

Roger wasn't completely sure of this place yet, though he had chosen a space close to Molly as his and she had put a soft new mat down on which he could lie, and his food and water bowls were where he could easily reach them yet wouldn't be kicked over by mistake.

He especially liked the new area outside where he could take his breaks. Lots of room to burn off some energy and plenty of new bushes and trees with which to acquaint himself. Yeah, this would do, he decided.

To keep the outside area clean, Molly obtained permission to create a "potty area" for Roger in an approved place. In an old junk shop, she found a faded-out, useless fire hydrant that Jethro spray-painted bright red for her. He also laid out an area just big enough, edged by landscape timbers, then filled that space with a thick layer of shredded bark. Off to one side, it provided Roger with his personal 'restroom' and was easy to keep clean and fresh with minimum effort and upkeep. Someone put up a small neat white sign that read: "For Roger's use only. Humans prohibited." It became the source of many smiles from employees and visitors alike.

* * *

Dispatch was located on the ground floor in this very same building and the agents, especially the team leaders, could actually get to know the previously unknown faces to go with the familiar voices they knew over the phone.

After their initial strolls through their spacious new facility, each of the agents and employees had the strange feeling that NCIS was all 'grown up' now, no longer the new kids on the block and more than equal to their counterparts in the other agencies.

Shoulder were a little more squared, posture was a little taller, strides were a little more confident, demeanor was a little more positive and professional.

It was a very good feeling.

Agents and employees all over the US were having similar experiences. There were many new small satellite offices attached to Field Offices now which was reducing travel time the agents formerly had to make to simply get to a crime scene. They could see that though it would take a little time in which to adjust, it was going to be much more efficient for all of them.

Director Morrow stayed in contact with his wide-flung area of operation through MTAC as much as possible though there were times when face-to-face meetings were a necessity, then MCRT One became The Detail and left Washington to fly wherever the Director's presence was required.

Those on the Detail had the benefit of seeing so much more of the Agency's offices and agents than anyone else besides the Director himself and he had taken to asking them for their thoughts and opinions on things.

The one thing the agents of the Detail missed was seeing the Director around as they had before the changes removed him to Quantico. Morrow didn't like it either. He felt his place was with his people, not in the fancy digs many miles away from them.

It wasn't all that long before he began visiting them rather frequently at Bolling, snooping out space. He and Gibbs could be seen with heads together, talking quietly, pointing this way and that at walls. So it really wan't a surprise when workmen soon appeared and began making some changes in the spacious quarters upstairs, taking a little from here, a little from there, moving this and that, until a whole new office had been carved out and Director Morrow very quietly and happily moved into it.

They had increased the size of Gibbs' already big office, then had a wall installed that gave each of them a comfortable office of equal size. Each office was going to be accessible through a single secretary/receptionist's office, each man taking two of the four big windows.

Morrow sat in his new office and grinned. He was back where he belonged. If anybody over at the new place needed him, they had his phone number.

* * *

Cyber Crimes also had a great working space located on the first floor. That department had been doubled in size and, even then, they were having trouble staying on top of everything. Tim had been offered that department as Chief of Cyber Crimes Division, but he wanted to stay with his team as SFA, as a member of the Detail, and as Molly's copilot. He was happy with his place.

He was especially happy with their new work space. He felt free to breath deeply in the well-lit, airy squad room. It felt good to know that John Balboa's team was right next to them as they had been at the Yard, and Rob Johansson's team was next. All of them had subconsciously duplicated the locations of their work spaces as close as the old arrangement as they could. All of them agreed that this new office had many advantages that they liked. The taller dividers cut down on ambient noise and gave them a feeling of privacy while allowing them to stay in close contact with one another at the same time.

Away from work, Tim wasn't quite as happy. He had friends and his games, writing and such, but there was a big empty hole in his life since he and Delilah had agreed to call it quits some time back. He truly missed having someone very special with whom to share life - and it didn't appear that it would change in the foreseeable future.

He saw the happiness on the faces of Mac and Gibbs, Jon and Kat, and noted the long looks of Tony and Sam when either thought the other wasn't watching. It appeared that he and Marty were going to be just the team tagalongs.

Tim surreptitiously glanced at Tony who was studying Sam's beautiful face as she searched her monitor screen for something. After a moment, Tony turned his attention to something on his desk and the SFA caught Sam staring at Tony with a soft, slightly sad, wistful expression.

Then he noticed Molly smiling at him, sending him a wink of understanding of his observations. So others were aware? Jon? As if hearing his name mentioned in this silent conversation, Cartwright glanced at both Tim and Mac with a tiny smile in his eyes. Yep, he knew, too.

What about Marty? O'Brien sensed the eyes of his teammates on him and looked at each one with a bit of confusion, then a rapid glance at his team leader and Samantha clued him in and he too wore a secret-sharing smile. So DiNozzo and Wolfe were the only two who didn't know. The rest of them would have to take care of that ASAP.

Then the silence of their bullpen was interrupted by a slightly annoyed-sounding DiNozzo. "One of you want to let me in on what's going on, or do I have to guess? Haven't played Twenty Questions in a long time, but I used to be pretty good at it."

Blue-green eyes searched the faces of his team but couldn't tell much from their expressions. Samantha Wolfe seemed to be the only one genuinely in the dark about whatever had been going on between the others.

Whoa. A clue? Definitely. Were they on to him? Surely none of them would say anything. Better not or he might go all 'Gibbs' on them.

"What do you mean, Tony? Can't any of us smile at each other? New rule or something?" Tim asked innocently. His expression couldn't quite dispell the glint of mischief in his green eyes.

"Yeah. What's up, Tony?" Jon asked in his deep cowboy drawl.

"Tony, ya need a break, sounds like. Why don't you and Sam go get all of us some coffee and something to munch on. We need an afternoon pick-me-up," Molly suggested.

Sam was looking from one to the other, not making any sense out of anything. She knew for sure she had kept her intense attraction to the team's leader under careful wraps, so what was going on?

To himself, DiNozzo thought, ' _Well, why not? It'd feel good to get outside a few minutes and stretch my legs.'_ There was a big commissary less than a block away that would provide just about anything a person wanted.

Aloud he asked, "Okay, who's buying?"

A few moments later he held a collection of bills that had been hastily removed from wallets and he said, "Sam, with me."

Poor Sam was more puzzled than ever but she'd never turn down a few minutes with Tony. Maybe one of these days he might even notice her.

The instant the elevator doors closed behind them, the rest of the team started buzzing in low voices. They'd figure out how to set up a series of ambushes for the two. Details at eleven.

* * *

A/N:

In real life, DC NCIS is actually located in these two places now. Headquarters is at Quantico, the Field Office is at Bolling and smaller field offices have sprouted everywhere. I thought it was about time to bring the story characters up-to-date, as well; more growth. I have no idea about the specific details of their facilities, so I took the liberty of creating the appearance of the new DC Field Office and keeping Autopsy (which the real NCIS doesn't even have) and the Labs (also which they don't have) at Bolling for character availability.

I love reading your comments and hope you'll tell me if you like this aspect or not. Thanks so much for reading my story. I'm still new with this fandom and enjoy reading _your_ stories very much! So many of you are simply brilliant with the incredible plots you come up with!

A special thanks to those who have been so very encouraging through every step of this new adventure for me. Thanks to them, I'm gradually increasing in confidence and really want to continue writing. Each of you know how special you are to me! My work is totally unbata-ed, so all mistakes are strictly my own.

'Wings

* * *

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continued

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	2. Chapter 2

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NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 2

Leaving the new Field Office after work, Samantha Wolfe drove toward her apartment in nearby Alexandria. She had struck gold not only with the apartment itself, but its location on a _very_ quiet road across from Jones Point Park on the Potomac River. It was quiet and private with lots of surrounding greenery and trees.

The apartment encompassed the entire upper floor of a lovely brick corner townhouse. A key opened an exterior door that opened into a small foyer where a locked inner door opened to the lower floor of the townhouse occupied by the owners. The foyer also gave access to the stairs that led up to Sam's wonderful apartment. A small landing at the top of the stairs would take you straight to her apartment door, much like that of Mr. Jenner's home and Jon's apartment, except her apartment had a small guestroom in addition to the master suite with its large closets and private bath.

Surrounded by big windows and all the trees gave it a special ambiance that she loved and it suited her perfectly. When she had signed the lease agreement, she had had no idea that NCIS would be relocating to Bolling AFB which was only about a mile away on an interstate that crossed the Wilson Bridge over the Potomac; then another short ride on 265 and she could literally be at work within ten to fifteen minutes.

There were any number of nearby shops and stores in Alexandria where she could buy anything she wanted. Tonight, she was in the mood for Chinese, so she stopped at a small place she had found not long after moving in. The food was just fabulous and after a long day of working on a baffling but intriguing cold case, she decided she deserved the treat. Ordering some of this, some of that, plus egg rolls was way too much for one meal, but it was what she wanted and she might finish it tomorrow night.

Ordering her meal to go, she wandered over to the front window and gazed out while she waited for it to be prepared. It was now twilight and everyone seemed intent on getting home. The fall air was brisk after sundown and fallen leaves skittered about in the light breeze like colorful little mice scurrying toward their dens.

Then her dark eyes fell on a deep red late model car half-parked across the street, its driver just sitting there, seemingly studying the front of the Chinese restaurant. Making up his mind if he wants Chinese tonight? Waiting for someone? What?

At the moment there were only two other customers waiting for orders besides herself. She stepped back from the glass a bit and off to the side so she would be hard to spot while she continued to observe him. Shortly the two women awaiting their orders paid, collected their bags and exited, turning to the right, walking down the street.

When her order was ready, she paid, gathered the bags in her left arm so her right hand would be free to grab her Sig if needed. Pretending that she had paid the driver no attention, she walked straight to her car and began the short drive home.

In the rearview mirror she saw the dark red vehicle fall in behind her, staying about a half block back. Now she felt a bit of alarm and a small frown took up residence on her face. As soon as she saw a space, she pulled to the side of the road and just waited a moment but the car never passed her. There wasn't a turnoff on this stretch, so that driver was either still back there somewhere waiting for her to move or he had turned around and gone out the way he came in. This didn't feel right.

She took out her cellphone and pressed a number on quick-dial.

"DiNozzo."

"Tony, it's Sam. Sorry to bother you - but - I'm - pretty sure I'm being followed. It's probably much ado about nothing but somehow it just - doesn't feel right."

"Where are you?" The tone of Tony's voice was low, very serious and very firm.

She gave him the location and told him what she had observed.

"Stay right there; I'm on the way. Be sure the doors are locked!"

The connection was broken and Sam looked out into the quiet darkness that now surrounded her. The doors were locked but she suddenly felt very vulnerable for some reason. That wasn't something she was accustomed to experiencing. There was a very odd tingling sensation on the back of her neck that extended down below her shoulder blades. She was a very tall woman who stood just under six feet, she was in great condition from regular workouts and training, and she was an _armed_ Federal Officer, for Pete's sake. If anything, everyone else should feel intimidated by her!

While she waited and kept an close eye on her surroundings, she tried to come up with any reason why someone would have any interest in following her. She worked long hours on a schedule that was usually irregular. Kept odd hours. Barely knew anyone outside of her landlord and possibly some in the few businesses she regularly visited. And she'd never noticed that car before. It was weird.

By the time Tony's sedan pulled up parallel to her car on this quiet side street, her anxiety had grown to the point that her heart was pounding and her hands unsteady. This was _definitely_ out-of-character! The tall Shawnee woman had never experienced this reaction and was troubled by it.

She got out of her car and walked straight into the strong arms that had opened for her, as if that was a natural everyday response for them. Sam instantly felt safe, sheltered, protected by the big, strong, very competent man. Prior to this, she had never even touched him, other than fingers brushing slightly when exchanging papers now and then. She didn't want to move.

Tony held her close, feeling the slight tremor in her body. "It's okay, Sam. You're safe. I drove around but didn't see a car of that description so whoever it was has gone. I'll follow you home, okay? You're good to drive?"

Embarrassed and glad the darkness mostly hid the blush that adorned her cheeks, she nodded. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I usually don't get spooked - but this time - it felt - different somehow."

"You did the right thing. Always follow your gut instinct and most certainly don't brush off anything like this. How many cases have we investigated where a victim ignored these internal warnings? I'll be right behind you."

The agent nodded and returned to her car. Tony backed up a little to give her room to pull out onto the road, then followed her home. All the way Sam chided herself. Had she allowed her imagination to scare herself? Surely nobody had a beef with her. It simply made no sense. She wasn't some helpless little flower who needed to be rescued, even if the rescu _er_ was the man who haunted her thoughts and dreams. She truly was embarrassed.

When she parked outside her apartment, Tony said, "I want to check inside, too. Make sure you're safe."

She followed him upstairs and unlocked her apartment door which was to the left of the upper landing, entering behind him. He had his Sig in his hand, clearing every room. Once he was satisfied that all was well, he smiled, "You'll be okay now?"

Returning his smile, Sam apologized a little shyly, "Tony, thank you for coming. I've never felt - like that before and I wasn't sure what to do - so I called. I'm so sorry to have disturbed you."

"Call anytime - and I mean that! Do _not_ ignore what your senses and instincts are trying to tell you. What case are you working on now?"

"The Hope murder case from a couple of years ago."

"You talked to anybody connected to it?"

"Yeah, several, but I don't have much to show for it."

"Okay. Tomorrow we go over it and see if you've kicked over a hornet's nest somewhere along the way."

Sam nodded, still embarrassed. "The least I can do is offer a meal. I have some good Chinese food here. Will you join me?"

Glad to have this opportunity to be with her in a private, off-duty setting, a stunning real Tony-smile swept across his face as he holstered his Sig. "Love Chinese. Got enough?"

"I think so. Wine or coffee?"

"How 'bout wine, _then_ coffee?"

With a smile, she gestured toward her small dining area, getting plates and utensils from the adjacent kitchen while Tony opened the bottle of wine he'd selected from her small collection. Then he casually made his way toward the large bank of windows that covered most of two walls, checking the street and surroundings, then adjusting the blinds so no one could see in.

Dividing up the food, they ate while making small talk, not quite at ease in this first personal encounter, still finding their way toward each other on a personal level. Tony's gift of gab filled in any moments that could have been awkwardly silent and each gradually relaxed a bit.

He listened with interest to stories of her years growing up in Kansas, loving the sound of her low-pitched voice. Through many generations, her family had accumulated a large amount of acreage in the upper northwest corner of Kansas, close to the state lines of both Colorado to the west and Nebraska to the north. In all that time, they had carefully managed their land and now it was a fertile, productive enterprise where they raised a great deal of wheat in addition to other crops and a sizable herd of cattle, as well as their own horses and assorted pets.

He could easily visualize the land and nearby hills that she described.

"You miss it?"

"Always."

"But not enough to go back?"

She smiled briefly as she shook her head slighty. "No. I miss my family, but I was never cut out to be a rancher. I needed more to keep my mind busy and challenged."

"How did you decide on the Navy?"

A slightly embarrassed smile crinkled her eyes. "Because I had never seen the ocean and wanted to learn more about it. I have a cousin who signed on with the Coast Guard several years before I went to the Navy. He'd tell me all sorts of funny tales about going through basic training but warned me to never volunteer for anything. One day when he was in morning formation, one of the DIs asked if there was anybody who wanted to operate a Coast Guard cutter. Like a dummy he raised his hand - and soon found himself in the hot sun walking behind a lawn mower."

Her laughter, low and happy, made him want to hear it again and again.

"Enough about me. How about you? You told me about everyone's background but not yours."

"Oh, not much to tell. Born in Long Island, New York; went to Rhode Island Military Academy, then to college in Ohio. Worked in several police departments, made Detective, did a lot of undercover work, then came to NCIS. And here I am."

Sam noticed how he glossed over details but decided to let it go. If he had wanted to talk about them, he would have.

"You never married in all that time?"

"Nah. Came close one time, but it fell apart before the big day. Been too busy working ever since. Who would want to put up with our weird hours?"

"It would probably take somebody who is there who would know." Sam tried to keep an easy smile on her face but was hoping with all her heart she hadn't been too bold with that statement. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice the pink flush she could feel on her cheeks.

Tony felt his ears begin to heat up, always a tell-tale sign that a deep blush was creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat and dredged up that megawatt smile and all but croaked, "Yeah. Probably." He was a master at undercover ops so why couldn't he control that blush now, of all times? He felt as if there was a large neon sign above his head that read: "YES! I'm an idiot. Will you marry me?"

Tony helped clear away the remains of their meal while Sam started the coffee brewing, then they sat in the living area sipping the hot brew. As his cup slowly emptied, Tony felt his time with Sam vanishing much too quickly. He'd really have no other excuse to stay, and both had to work in the morning.

Sam had the same thoughts and dreaded seeing him leave. She couldn't help but wonder when, or if, he'd ever come here again. Could she simply invite him without having a real reason? Would that be too pushy of her? Too forward?

Cups empty, Tony dug out his blinding smile and thanked her for sharing her meal with him.

"You're very welcome! It's the least I could do after dragging you out here. I feel rather foolish now. But maybe we can do this again. Without the rescue part."

Tony smiled back. "I'll take you up on that. I usually wind up just ordering a pizza and eating in front of the TV."

"I don't enjoy eating alone, either. Let's do it."

"Sounds great. Lock up behind me and don't hesitate to call if you feel uncomfortable about anything, okay?"

"I promise. Thanks again, Tony. See you in the morning."

"'Night, Sam."

She closed the door and turned the double locks, then walked to the front windows and peered down at the street through the side of the blinds, watching her boss walk to his car, taking his time glancing around as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the car door. Before getting in, he looked up toward her apartment with a soft, beautiful, genuine smile that just about buckled her knees. Then she began trying to think of how to actually have him come over again. Something that didn't include a maybe-stalker.

* * *

Arriving a little early the next morning, Sam settled in at her desk and pulled out the files of the cold case on which she was working. She had checked out a few places yesterday looking for any overlooked clues without finding anything that seemed connected to the case, and sat for several minutes reviewing her notes that she hoped would give her a direction in which to look.

DiNozzo and the others arrived only a moment later and joined in the morning greetings as everyone was getting settled. He had stopped by his favorite Italian bakery and picked up a dozen luscious pastries for everyone. He had gotten in the habit of doing this every week or so and everybody loved them, even if some muttered something about needing more time in the gym even as fingers were licked clean of the last tiny traces of irresistable icing.

He and Sam had exchanged a warm smile, though neither brought up their meeting the previous evening. Somehow it just seemed right that it be kept to themselves for now, at least, even though they hadn't mentioned it the night before.

Marty and Jon went on the first coffee run of the day and brought back steaming cups that would accompany each agent through his/her case work til lunch time.

Relative silence reigned in the bullpen as each studied files and searched for any tidbit that might lead to a breakthrough in whatever case file he or she had picked.

* * *

Sam's case was that of Brandy Hope, a young Marine 2nd Lieutenant who had been found stabbed to death inside her apartment just outside Quantico several years ago. All the evidence seemed to point to her longtime boyfriend, John Martin, a Marine 1st Lieutenant, also stationed at Quantico.

His older brother, Marine Captain Dennis Martin, had just gotten home on leave after a year-long tour of duty in Afghanistan. The two brothers were together that entire day and evening.

Of course the boyfriend's prints would be all over Lt. Hope's apartment since he was there so frequently. Yes, he knew every inch of the place; why shouldn't he?

On the other hand, he'd also know that even if the back door was locked, it was slightly loose in its frame and when moved just right, the door could be opened without a key. He'd also know where all the kitchen knives were. There was no doubt that it was one from a set of her knives that was the murder weapon, but there were no prints other than those of Brandy and John Martin, his because he often helped dry dishes and put them away.

But most importantly, he'd surely know that his pretty young girlfriend had just learned that she was pregnant.

When the original team had questioned Captain Martin, he told them that his brother had mentioned that he may be getting married rather quickly and the reason why. The Captain admitted that the younger man seemed happy but bothered by it at the same time. He explained that he had chalked it up to the unexpected nature of the upcoming nuptials. It didn't bother the Captain that he and his brother were black and Lt. Hope was white, but he knew there were others who wouldn't take so kindly to the idea of their mixed-race marriage and child.

If their parents were still alive, especially their mother, there would be no doubt that an enormous affair would be de rigureur, but as it was, they'd have a very small, quiet wedding.

When the brothers went to Lt. Hope's apartment the next morning and found her bloodied body lying on the kitchen floor, the younger brother appeared to be in deep shock, unusually quiet, speaking only when spoken to, staring into nothingness with sad eyes that continually rained tears down his handsome chiseled face.

Obviously he had been a Person of Interest during the original investigation but had been eliminated as a suspect by his alibi supported by his older brother, and so many comments by his friends and buddies in the Corps who all stated that John continually talked about Brandy and seemed thrilled, if a little nervous, at the prospect of becoming a father. All of them had gotten in on 'name the baby' suggestions that ranged from serious considerations to fall-on-the-floor-laughing comedic ridiculousness.

Yesterday, Sam had gone to visit the Captain, now retired from the military, employed by a civilian/military "think tank" based in Alexandria, also living in Alexandria. The former Marine officer was polite and answered her questions readily enough but she had the feeling that he'd just as soon send her on her way as quickly as possible. No surprise that she was unable to extract any new information from him.

She hadn't been able to locate the younger Martin brother at the base so she located some of his buddies in his Unit and questioned them. To a man, each said that Martin was still in deep mourning for Brandy even after all this time, rarely smiled anymore, said little to anyone. A sergeant told her that he kept a rather close eye on Martin because he didn't want him "to do anything stupid."

Thanking them, she returned to the office to see if a computer search would turn up anything new or revealing.

She concentrated on possible areas that might have been overlooked. Lt. Hope's only sibling, her brother, Jared Hope, had taken his sister's death hard. Very hard. He had made all the funeral arrangements and had executed her Will, but his grief took the form of anger and people had mostly steered clear of him since her death.

She really wanted to talk with him again. From what she could see in the reports, the previous team hadn't pursued much of an investigation on him. The money from his sister's insurance policies had gone to him as stipulated in the policies but most of it still sat in a savings account.

She could understand the earlier team's dismissal of him as a suspect. But something still nagged at her and she wanted to talk to him.

Taking her file over to Tony's desk, she quietly showed him what she had been pursuing and asked if she could locate the brother and talk to him.

"Yes, but you're not going alone. Take Marty with you and stay in touch."

She smiled. "Thanks. Hopefully we will find a clue."

He flashed a quick grin but his eyes sought Marty's sending him a private message to which the agent received and gave a little nod in acknowledgement.

Jared Hope owned a thriving automotive repair shop in Silver Springs which enjoyed a wide-spread reputation for honesty and good work. Marty parked their agency sedan at the curb outside and entered a large opened bay door. There were several mechanics at work on various vehicles.

Marty looked at one of the mechanics and asked, "Jared Hope?"

Wordlessly pointing to a pair of legs sticking out from beneath a truck, the agents nodded their thanks and walked over. Marty squatted next to the coverall-clad legs, "Jared Hope? NCIS. Like to ask ya a few questions."

Rolling himself out from under the truck on a low trolly, Hope glanced at the two agents without a shred of friendliness. He sighed loudly as he got to his feet. "Well, what now, Mr. High-and-Mighty NCIS? Got my sister's killer yet? Don't have any more answers to anything that I haven't already answered God-only-knows how many times already. No, I don't know who killed her, though I still think you oughtta check into that Marine she was seeing. He'd have more cause than anybody."

Sam smiled and asked softly, "You and Martin didn't get along?"

"Well, guess we did - before Brandy was killed."

"Why do you think Martin did it?"

"Well, he was the one most affected by her getting pregnant, wasn't he? Maybe he wasn't so keen on getting married to a white girl or having a half-breed kid right off the bat. That's a lot to cope with all at one time."

"Brandy told you this?"

"No. She always had stars in her eyes after she met this guy. He never did anything wrong as far as she was concerned. Mr. Perfect, he was."

"You and Brandy were close?"

"Yeah, especially in her younger years. My parents weren't the best in the world and I kinda watched out for her. Then she joined the Marines straight out of college, got her commission and was gonna be a career Marine. Then Martin comes along and shoots all of that down just because he looked good and had a nice smile."

Hope paused and shook his head, muttering, "He really messed everything up."

"What kinds of things?"

"Brandy's career! Her not having time to be with her own brother. Martin was always around, never backing off for a minute. There for Thanksgiving. There for Christmas. Those used to be real special times for her and me."

"You were jealous of him?"

"No, wasn't jealous. Just wished there would have been some time just for the two of us, ya know? She was my kid sister - and I missed her real bad. Now she's gone for good. All because of Martin." The man's voice dropped lower and lower as he spoke until it was barely a whisper.

A few more questions then the agents left. The drive back to Bolling was quiet as the two thoughtfully reviewed what the man had said.

Sam finally commented, "Everything he said, and his anger, could well be attributed to his sister's death, though his resentment of Martin clearly comes through."

Marty responded, "Yeah. Conflicting, yet his answers seemed honest. Who's to say he's not guilty? Could be taken either way."

Sam just nodded as the brother's words went round and round in her mind.

"Thanks for going with me, Marty. I like working with you."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Agent Wolfe," the genial agent smiled.

"Marty, did you by chance kiss the Blarney Stone at some point?"

He just laughed. "Not unless I was exceptionally drunk when I did, because I have no memory of it!"

* * *

Sam wrote up a detailed report on her day's activity and handed it to Tim who, as SFA, would check it over and sign it off before it went to the team leader.

Sam sat quietly studying the case. Either of the Martin brothers or Brandy's own brother? There was no one else on radar who might be involved. The more she studied it, she crossed Lt. John Martin off her list. So, the Martin brother or the Hope brother were left.

Captain Martin had just returned stateside only the day before after being deployed in the hellhole of the Middle East for a year. If he and his younger brother were in each other's company the entire night before, he had no opportunity. And, his brother was obviously head-over-heels in love with this girl and was genuinely happy to become a father, so he had no motive.

Sam sighed. That left Jared Hope. His sister heavily involved with a black man, pregnant. His antagonistic attitude toward John Martin, his expressed jealousy of Martin always being with her and the lack of sister/brother time as it had been in the past.

She realized that she had failed to establish Hope's whereabouts the night of the murder. He would also know about the lack of security of the apartment's back door. And his fingerprints would also be expected all over the apartment.

She glanced up at Tony and saw him looking at her with a very serious expression on his face. She asked softly, "Want to go over this case now?"

He nodded. "Yeah, show me what you got."

She rolled her chair over and positioned it close to his. Opening the case file, she detailed what she had found and her feelings about info she had collected so far, her reasons for her conclusions, and her own suspicions.

"I need to talk with Hope again because I realized I didn't get all the info I needed. Sorry."

Their heads close together they discussed the case quietly. Tony looked at his watch. Almost four o'clock. He spoke to the group, "Sam and I are going to interview a suspect. Wrap up everything and head on home at five. We're not on call tonight so we shouldn't get hit with a case but you know the drill. See you in the morning."

Sam gathered her things, petted Roger goodnight, and left with Tony. On the way down to the first floor, he suggested, "Why don't we take just one car and I'll pick you up in the morning. It's pretty much on my way to Bolling, anyhow."

Sam nodded with a shy smile, not really sure how to respond. Personally she was doing a happy-dance inside, and she knew she had to maintain a professional attitude - but when it came to one very handsome NCIS Supervisory Special Agent, she didn't know how to do that _successfully_.

He signed out an agency sedan, surprising her by opening the door for her, then drove them off the base and turned the car towards Silver Springs to the north of Alexandria.

The ride was quiet as Tony manuevered around heavy traffic but once on another interstate, they were able to move faster.

Tony spoke first, "Are you happy to be on the team now?"

"Oh, yes! Most _certainly_ yes. I - I'm so embarrassed at my behavior that first day. I must have appeared to be a certified bitch."

Tony chuckled. "Wasn't the best start, but I hoped you'd want to stay with us. With more DC MCRTs being put together, you might want to consider going with one of them and return to SFA status."

Sam shook her head. "Tony, I wouldn't give up my place on this team for anything. I like all of you. I like the way you run a team. I enjoy serving on the protection detail. And I love flying with Mac and Tim! This team ais special like no other in the agency. No, you'll have to run me off."

Tony smiled and reached over to cover her hand with his big warm hand, which startled her. ' _Am I supposed to hold his hand - or what?'_

"Glad to hear that. I want you to stay." Switching gears as he returned his hand to the wheel, he asked, "On the way back, you want to stop somewhere to eat, or maybe get something to go?"

She stammered, "Uh, that would be lovely."

"Which?"

"Um, either one."

Now she felt as if she was making a fool out of herself, not even able to answer a simple question. The warmth of that hand had seemed to flow up her arm, filling her entire body with the most wonderful feeling, but now felt so cold when it was gone.

When he glanced at Sam, her face seemed - how to describe it? - almost sad. "Sam, are you okay?"

Dredging up a smile, she met his eyes and nodded, wishing she had the courage to just tell him of her great attraction to him. She'd remember the feeling of his hand on hers for as long as she lived, and she'd hope and wish for it to happen again. But she couldn't let him know that. He was her boss! Telling him would probably earn her an immediate dismissal from the team.

They finally pulled up to Hope's Auto Repair Service in Silver Springs and entered the building. Several mechanics were in the process of putting tools away, getting ready to get off work and go home. Tony put on a friendly face and relaxed his tall erect posture to a non-threatening stance, asking one of them, "Jared around?"

"He's out on a test-run right now but should be back shortly. You wanna wait for him, there are chairs in the office."

"Great! Appreciate it."

"No problem," the mechanic answered as he turned away to head home.

As soon as the last employee left, Tony told Sam, "Keep an eye out. I'm going to look around."

Sam nodded and stood where she could see the approach to the business's driveway. Tony quickly shuffled through desk drawers, rifled through cabinet files, searching for anything that might lead them to a clue but turned up nothing.

When Jared Hope walked in, the two agents were patiently sitting in two chairs in front of Hope's desk.

"Who let you in here?" he demanded.

"One of your guys said we could wait here for you," Tony answered with a smile. "Didn't think you'd mind."

"Well, I do. This is my office and strangers are not allowed in unless I invite them," Hope growled.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to trespass. Got just a question or two we'd like to ask," Tony told him, as he returned to his natural "in charge" posture.

"Already answered the lady's questions," Hope snarled as he gestured toward Sam.

Ignoring Hope's last statement, Tony asked, "Can you tell me where you were the night your sister died?"

Hope was silent for a moment then yelled, "You're not gonna try to pin that on me, are you? _My own sister?_ That's pretty low, even for feds. Where was I? I was right here until something after nine. Then I went home, made a sandwich, took a shower and went to bed. That's what I do; I work, go home, sleep and come back the next morning to do it all over again!"

Undeterred, Tony asked quietly, "Can anybody confirm your whereabouts that night?"

"Confirm it? Hell, I dunno! Maybe. Maybe not. I just don't know. Somebody mighta seen the lights on in here. Somebody mighta seen or heard me when I got home. I just don't know."

Tony glanced at Sam and stood, holding out his hand to Hope. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Hope. We have to ask these questions. We're still trying to find your sister's killer. We haven't given up."

Hope simply nodded and sat slumped in his office chair as they left.

On the drive back to DC, Tony asked Sam, "Well, what do ya think?"

"I honestly don't know, Tony. He seems sincere but neither of the Martin brothers are guilty - so that just leaves Hope."

"Is there someone we're not aware of?"

"These are the only ones mentioned by the original investigative team."

"Tomorrow, let's go back and see if there's anyone who has been overlooked."

"Sounds good."

"Okay, where or what do we eat?"

"You decide. I'm too tired."

"Hmmm. There a good Italian place in Alexandria?"

"Yes! It's small but you'd find no better food anywhere. Guiseppe's on St. Patrick."

"Aha! Right down my alley! Eat in or to go?"

"To go. I can't wait to get home and into some comfy jeans and sweatshirt. How about you?"

"I don't think your jeans will fit me."

"My - ?" Then Sam broke into laughter. "You're quick, Tony."

"I think it's the other way around. My mouth kicks in gear before my brain can catch up and by then, I'm usually toast."

When Tony took Sam to her apartment a little later, the figure hidden in the blackness at the edge of Jones Point Park was unnoticed.

* * *

::

continued

::


	3. Chapter 3

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 3

Later that night, Sam had just gotten out of the shower, preparing for bed, when the startling sound of shattering glass against the brick wall outside her apartment stopped her cold. Wrapped in a hastily donned robe, she hurried to the front windows, moving the shades aside to look out. Flickering flames lit up the dark night as wooden shutters began to burn from whatever accelerant had liberally splashed on them.

Grabbing her phone, she called 911 as she swiped up her keys from a small table by the door and ran down the stairs in her bare feet to pound on her landlord's door, alerting them to the danger.

By the time the fire department arrived, there was a broad column of snapping flames from the lowest shutters straight up to the those around the windows of Sam's upstairs apartment and the eaves and roof were in immediate danger of catching fire at any moment. From there, the catastrophy would be complete as the yellow-and-red demon ate its way through all the floors right down the the basement level. The beautiful, gracious home would be a smoking pile of rubble.

The blackening glass beside the shutters looked as if they'd shatter from the heat any moment, giving the hungry fire direct access into apartment and home.

Several big red firetrucks trucks responded to the call and the chief shouted instructions to his men, attacking the fire from two different angles, as well as getting a hose directed at the roof and eaves. Sam stood watching the fire with her heart in her throat, so very thankful when it appeared that the tactics of the firemen seemed to be gaining the upper hand rather quickly.

When the fire was out, the chief consulted with several of his men, as others began the task of returning the hoses to proper order and onto the trucks and gathering all their different equipment on the once carefully tended lawn. A lieutenant approached asking if he could ask her some questions.

Standing barefoot in the chilly night, her glossy black hair flowing down her back, hugging her robe close about her, she succinctly told him through teeth that wanted to chatter, in straightforward words, exactly what she had heard, seen and done. The fire lieutenant noted her name, telling her that fire investigators would want to speak with her. She gave him her cell number and place of work where they could reach her.

She looked at the blackened side of the house and shivered but not from cold. If that fire bomb had crashed through her windows, it would have been beyond terrible. She very well could have been trapped in the apartment, especially if she had been in the shower when it was thrown. As it was, the landlord's insurance would pay to have all everything cleaned up and replaced, including the damage to the lawn and the heat-compromised windows. The occupants of the house had been so fortunate that the dirtbag's aim had been off.

She thought about Tony, wondering if she should call him but decided that it was over for the night; she'd tell him in the morning.

* * *

Tony woke up feeling great. He'd slept well enjoying dreams about fantastic Italian food and a gorgeous woman. In a short while, he'd pick her up at her place since her car was still at the base and drive into work with her. No better way to start a day!

He hoped he'd be able to think of some reason to do this with great frequency. He decided that this was another 'pastry day' so he left early to swing by his favorite Italian bakery before heading for Alexandria.

When he pulled up in front of the stately brick home where Sam's apartment was located and got out of his car, he took several steps toward the door then jerked to a halt. He took in the smoke-blackened brick that stopped just short of reaching the roof and his heart began to pound. He pushed the bell that alerted her that someone was at the door for her, praying that she'd answer quickly.

Then her voice came over the intercom, "I'm on the way down, Tony."

True to her word, she exited the outer door only a moment later. Without thought, Tony took her in his arms, holding her close, asking her with a low, tense voice, "What happened, Sam? Why didn't you call me?"

She filled him in, explaining that there was nothing to be done at that late hour and she knew she'd see him this morning. "Sorry. I didn't think about you seeing the exterior when you arrived."

Holding her by the shoulders, he looked closely at her face, noting the shadows beneath her eyes. "You didn't sleep, did you?"

She softly admitted, "Not a lot. It was quite a fright."

"Go back upstairs and pack a bag. You're not staying here again until we find out who is behind this."

"But - "

"No 'buts'; just go do it. You're a Federal Agent and you need Federal protection. That goes for any agent under threat and endangered."

While Sam went back in to do as he had ordered, Tony glanced at his watch and pushed a number on speed dial.

"Gibbs...got a problem." He told him of the firebomb. "We gotta get her in protection. Yeah, she's upstairs packing a bag now. We'll be in shortly."

A very short time later Sam appeared with her a leather go-bag and a larger bag. Tony took the larger of the two and put it in the trunk of the agency's sedan.

"Are you sure this is necessary, Tony?"

He stopped and just looked into her dark eyes for a moment. "Sam, you are clearly in danger from whoever this jerk is. NCIS won't simply stand around and wait until you're hurt or worse before taking action."

Sam was somewhat taken aback. She didn't expect her team leader to step up like this. Faces of her former leaders briefly swam across her mental eyes - and she knew they wouldn't be as proactive as Tony apparently was with his agents. She should have realized it; he had all but moved mountains to help the different ones who had gotten injured or simply needed a mental break after a really tough case.

She had also just realized what a truly special man this Tony DiNozzo was. In response to his statement she simply nodded, acquiescing to his will. Where would they take her? She'd find out soon enough and hoped she'd packed enough to see her through.

* * *

As soon as they walked into the new squadroom, Gibbs appeared at the railing of the balcony overlooking their bullpen and motioned with a small tip of his head to come upstairs.

Tony put the large box of pastries on his desk, then escorted Sam upstairs to Gibbs' office.

Seated in chairs around the highly polished mahogany desk, Gibbs asked quietly, "Whatcha got, DiNozzo?"

Tony detailed what had transpired to date. Sam sat quietly, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. She was really glad Tony did the talking because Gibbs totally intimidated her. She'd never fully understand how Molly had roped and (mostly) tamed this very strong-willed man. At that same moment, she realized that he had allowed himself to be tamed by that most-beautiful small woman.

Gibbs muttered, "Call ya later."

Tony nodded, the two agents stood and returned to the bullpen. The rest of the team was just arriving, chatting with each other as coats were removed after carefully placing precious cups of morning coffee on their desks, settling in, getting computers booted up, etc.

Sam tried to set her face into a normal everyday expression but there must have been something that aroused the interest of her teammates as the experienced investigators studied her eyes and the uneasiness she couldn't hide that mainfested itself in slightly jerky movements. Normally she was a picture of smooth fluid motion and calmness but she wasn't quite pulling it off this morning.

Their eyes also noted that Tony's eyes wore a slightly tight look around them and his smile wasn't the normal, easy smile they were now used to, even though his voice was light as he instructed everyone to come help themselves to the pastries he had brought for them.

With everyone thinking, no one was aware of uncharacteristic quiet into which their bullpen had fallen. Balboa poked his head around the end of one partition, "Y'all okay over there? When Team Tony gets quiet, the rest of us start worryin' - don't know whether to run or join in, ya understand."

Tony grinned at his friend, "Just enjoying some of the best pastry in the universe, Rocky. Come get some."

"You talked me right into it, you silver-tongued devil! Thanks." Returning to his own desk, he was intent on devouring the amazing pastry in his hand, accepting Tony's explanation.

Sam sighed and glanced at Tony. His eyes swept over the team. May as well fill them in. Looking at each one, he said, "A stalker has somehow latched onto Sam and we have to move her into protection. Last night, he tried to burn down the house where her apartment is located. What I'd like for all of us to do now is to go through the cold case she was working on. I think she's inadvertently kicked over a hornet's nest while investigating."

He had Sam go over the basic case, the findings of the original team, what she had found and brought them up-to-date with even the interview she and Tony had made the afternoon before, then what had happened that evening.

Tim got up to make copies of everything in the file, then distributed them to the team. Tony broke it down into sections and assigned a pair of agents to each part: Molly with Jon, Marty with Sam, and himself with Tim. His orders were to tear everything apart, no matter how far-fetched or unimportant it appeared. "The answer is somewhere in this case. It's up to us to find it. Be careful and stay in pairs; nobody goes _anywhere_ solo - and that is an order. Questions?"

They all wanted time to bring themselves up to speed by reading the actual case and the bullpen lapsed back into silence again. When the discussion began, Molly told Sam, "You're always welcome to come stay with us, Sam. Got plenty of room and we'd be glad to have you. You can ride back and forth with me and/or Jethro."

Tony nodded. "Thanks, MollyMac. We've already spoken with Gibbs but he has to get in touch with Fornell."

Tim starting working the computer; it was a rare time when his deep-level searches didn't turn up something helpful. The others were running their own searches into specific areas of the case, most wearing slight frowns as they looked at monitor screens.

Thoroughly engrossed in their work, no one noticed a certain very senior FBI agent who paused by their new bullpen at first. Fornell's usual world-weary expression seemed lighter for a moment as he perused each young face of the agents.

Tony glanced up and grinned, "Hey, Tobias! Come on in. Got a pastry of two left here; help yourself."

"Thanks, DiNozzo. What you got yourself into now?"

With a nod of his head toward Sam, he answered, "Special Agent Wolfe has a stalker who has rapidly escalated his game. From following one night to throwing firebombs at her apartment the next. I want her under protection whenever she's not at work."

Fornell's blue eyes rested on Sam for a long moment as he nodded, "More than justified, DiNozzo. Need to talk to Gibbs."

He glanced around the building a quick moment before he commented, "Nice place ya got here."

The whole team grinned, saying almost in chorus, "No orange walls!"

Fornell laughed as he climbed the stairs, munching on a pastry.

* * *

Jared Hope went to his office and closed the door, leaning against it with his eyes closed. Brandy. His sweet Brandy with her happy, sparkling eyes. There was nothing left worth living for! He had worked so hard even as a young kid to protect her, to provide for her, to get her through the horrific expenses of college - and all of it was for nothing.

The pain inside him had become almost unbearable. Now sitting at his desk, head in his hands, eyes closed as tightly as humanly possible, his throat was just as tightly constricted as a defense against sobs that were demanding to be released.

He could feel himself getting weaker every day. He couldn't endure it much longer. And why did those Navy cops have to come again, ripping open the scars that had begun to form. They didn't know that their questions took him right back to that blackest of all days?

No, he hadn't hated John Martin at the time, but now he knew who was the root cause of all the pain and his hatred grew almost by the hour. Why? _Why?_ _WHY?_

Tears silently trailed down his cheeks, dripping onto the messy scattering of papers on his desk. He didn't hear the door quietly open and didn't know he was no longer alone until Brian spoke softly, "Jared?"

Jared's head jerked up quickly and he made a quick swipe over his face before turning to respond, "Brian, that door was closed for a reason! Can't you even think to knock before coming it?"

The hurt in the man's eyes was evident and Jared almost felt a pang of regret for his tone of voice. A Marine vet who had been badly injured in Afghanistan, Jared had hired him to do shop cleanup and run errands. He himself hadn't been able to pass the physical for any of the armed forces so he had felt that in hiring Brian Roberts he was at least helping one who had served in his place.

Jared had been proud of Brandy when she had received her rank after passing every test, successfully grinding through boot camp, becoming a full-fledged Marine. She had succeeded where he had failed.

Brian Roberts, a big, bright, good-looking young man, had also succeeded where he had failed. An IED had forever changed Roberts, leaving him with a TBI, Traumatic Brain Injury. Sometimes Brian could function fairly normally, though far below his previous ability. At other times, it was very difficult for him to string a few words together to form a sentence.

Roberts did a great job in keeping the shop neat and clean and almost never called in sick. Jared never questioned those few times because he knew if it was at all possible, Roberts would be there.

Dropping his head and gaze back to the top of his desk, he mumbled softly, "Sorry, Brian. Didn't mean to bark at you. Got - things on my mind."

Brian quietly eased into the small room. "You thinking about Brandy again?"

A slight movement of Jared's head indicated a nod.

"I'm sorry, Jared. Can I - help?"

"No, Brian. It's over and done with. Nothing will bring her back."

Brian nodded as he stared at the floor for a moment. "Okay. I'm going back to - to - uh..."

"Work," Jared promptly automatically. Sometimes word retrieval was hard for Brian. Everybody in the shop was accustomed to helping him out by supplying an elusive word.

"Yeah, to - work." The door closed and the silence wrapped itself around the distraught shop owner again. That awful suffocating silence that even made breathing difficult.

He had decided after the NCIS woman's first 'visit' that he wasn't going through anymore of their sneaky questioning, trying to trip him up, make him confess to killing Brandy. Nope. There would be no more of that, no matter what he had to do.

Jared's employees in the shop immediately noticed how far he had sunk into depression and kept extra-sharp eyes on him. He had been better to each one of them than anyone else had ever been, and to a man, each one had deep loyalty to him. They worked hard and turned themselves into scrupulously honest workers in thanks to him. They were paid a good salary, something some of them never expected for themselves. Jared had given them self-respect again, another thing that had been long gone for most. Any of them would do anything for Jared Hope.

* * *

Gibbs had called Tony and ordered Sam and him to report to his office. Tony knew it was to discuss everything with Fornell, but Sam looked a bit apprehensive. "It's okay. Gotta talk to Fornell."

And indeed that was it, as well as discussing her accommodations for the duration of the threat. Again, she left most of the talking to Tony, although the senior FBI agent asked her questions directly. Since the FBI was technically responsible for protecting and housing any federal agent who required it, Fornell knew NCIS would be involved.

He was pleasantly surprised when DiNozzo didn't insist on members of his own team providing security. Tony knew his people needed to be able to rest as much as the case would permit. They would be working almost around the clock trying to find the dirtbag responsible for threatening Sam. They couldn't do that and provide security at the same time.

Gibbs had looked askance at Tony when he didn't argue about FBI agents doing the guarding, but understood the reasoning behind it, as did Fornell.

Then came the question of where would she stay. Naturally, Gibbs offered his house where his agents had stayed so many times when things came up. Samantha hardly knew how to respond. Gibbs intimidated her and she was afraid of offending both Molly and him. She glanced at Tony who gave her the most minute nod of his head, indicating that would be his choice as well.

"Agent Gibbs, thank you very much for the offer. Mac has become one of my favorite people. She's just awesome."

Gibbs nodded and responded as if everybody in the universe automatically understood the incredible eminence of his beautiful wife, "Ya think?"

Neither Tobias nor Tony could hide big grins.

Okay, that was settled.

Fornell said, "I'll set up security whenever she's off-duty. I assume she'll be riding back and forth with Molly?"

"Or me."

"Not if she's as smart as I think her to be." He turned the the tall agent, "I'm sure you know it by now, but, by everything that is good and Holy, _never_ get into a car with that maniac. Never!"

A smile finally crossed her face, lighting it up from within as Gibbs snorted and glared at Fornell who ignored it.

There was more conversation about the investigation of the case and Gibbs agreed that Fornell's people would supplement Tony's team in their work. Thankfully the new facility had more than enough room in which everyone could work.

* * *

Molly and Jon had gone out checking into several possibilities but had finally returned empty handed.

Tim had spent most of the day digging into every nook and cranny of the web trying so hard to find even a crumb, but was without success.

Tony had been coordinating with Fornell's people, getting them settled in work stations close to the team and bringing all of them up to date on the case and what had transpired since Sam started working on it. They had looked hard into both of the Martin brothers but it was clear that neither of them had killed Brandy Hope.

They, like Tony's team, turned to her brother Jared as the best possibility but there was simply no evidence to support his involvement.

Financial records were scoured, neighbors and friends were questioned. Zip. Not a single thing.

Tony sat staring out one of the big windows, fingers of one hand lightly rubbing his chin. He was the one who usually picked out the anomaly that broke a case open, but he felt as frustrated as the rest of the gang with this one.

If it wasn't the primary three they'd focused on, who, then, stood to lose if the investigation continued. Nobody on their radar. That meant they had to expand the scope of the circle in which they'd been looking.

"Jon, MollyMac, start checking into Hope's employees, go out there and get all their pertinant information. Everything. Top to bottom. Marty, you and Sam check deeper into Lt. Hope's circle of friends, possible enemies."

The team dove into their assignments, determined as bulldogs unleashed by their leader to find the answer.

* * *

Jared Hope was decidedly unhappy when he looked up from the carburator on which he was working and saw two NCIS agents walking in through the open bay door.

Wiping greasy hands on a shop cloth, he placed his hands on his hips and stood glowering as they walked up to him.

"'Morning, Mr. Hope. Need a couple of minutes of ya time, please, sir," Marty smiled as he offered his hand. "Marty O'Brien, sir."

Reluctantly taking the outstretched hand, Hope growled, "What you people want from me now?"

"Sir, we'd appreciate having a list of your employees going back to the time before your sister was killed. There might be a clue in there some where and we're doing our best to find the person who killed her. At least we'd be able to give you that much closure on her death."

When everything was voiced so nicely and thoughtfully, there was no way Hope could refuse. And it seemed that the agents were determined to find the guilty party. Maybe he'd better cut them some slack.

In his office he searched back through the list of employees on his computer, printed out names, addresses, social security numbers, etc. and gave it to the agents.

Sam stayed quiet since Marty seemed to have gotten on the irascible man's good side. "Any of these guys still around that we might have a quiet word with while we're here? Would save time and get us through the list that much quicker and, hopefully, that much closer to the one who did it."

Jared Hope turned a sideways look at the smiling agent, wondering how much was genuine truth and how much was just BS. He grunted, then checked of three of the names on the list and nodded toward the garage work area. That's those right there. Take it easy on Brian Roberts. He's a disabled combat vet. Head injury. Good man."

Marty nodded and smiled. "Gotcha. I served, too, so I understand."

Hope watched as the two agents quietly approached the first mechanic and spoke with him, then the second, then to Roberts.

"We don't talk about it much 'cause it hurts the boss. Lots of times, when he thinks nobody notices, he cries in his office."

"Was he mad before she died?"

"Maybe. He didn't like it that her - her military - -" His voice trailed off as a distressed look passed over his face.

"Career?" Marty offered.

"Yeah. Career. That her military career was gonna be affected by havin' a kid. He was real proud of her for goin' into service, ya know. He felt bad 'cause he couldn't pass a physical."

"Did you ever meet Brandy, Brian?"

"Uh, might have. Sometimes I can't remember things, ya know. The boss has always been real good to me, givin' me a job when nobody else would. I owe him a lot."

"Brian, can you think of anything that might help us find the person who killed his sister?"

"Oh, no, sir! I don't know anything." Robert's face was definitely distressed.

"Okay, Mr. Roberts. Thank you very much. Have a nice day."

The two agents smiled and gave the owner and employees a general wave before walking back out to the agency sedan.

In the car, Marty asked Sam, "Well, whattaya think?"

Sam's face was thoughtful. "Not sure, Marty. I don't have a definite feeling about any of them yet. What did you think of Roberts?"

"Hm," he muttered. "I think I'd believe him. I've seen a lot of guys with TBI and it appears that he's dealing with life the best he can. It's real tough to live with the effects of a TBI; I've seen some who lost all memory and ability to think. It put them back almost to a newborn state. I was fortunate to have escaped it. Some of my buddies didn't."

Sam nodded as she thought over the comments of the men they had interviewed. At least Marty had seemed to have finally gotten through to Mr. Hope that they were working to help him. That was a major step, in her estimation. Marty was an excellent agent with an uncanny ability to put people at ease around him.

While Marty had asked questions, she had surrepticiously noted the makes and models of autos in and around the shop. No dark red late model sedan.

Who was stalking her? And why?

* * *

::

continued

::


	4. Chapter 4

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 4

At first Sam felt uneasy being in Gibbs' home, but seeing the remarkable change in the man as he was at home allowed her to relax. And Mac was so easy to be around, she found that she was actually enjoying herself as the two of them talked and laughed as they cleaned up after supper in the kitchen.

Gibbs had disappeared into the basement. Sam asked, "What does he do down there?"

"Builds things. Anything from toys to furniture to sailboats."

"Sailboats? I had heard that but I never believed it. How does he get them out?"

Molly laughed. "That's his secret - and it drives everybody nuts. I'm not about to divulge that info!"

Molly took her guest on a tour through the house, showing her all the amazing work that her husband had done. It truly was a beautiful place. She could hardly believe that Gibbs made the amazingly beautiful furniture.

She had had trouble masking a laugh when the three of them and Roger piled into Molly's jeep after work. Molly got behind the wheel as a disgruntled Gibbs got in the back with the dog. Molly looked at him in the rearview mirror with a sparkling grin on her face.

"It's your own fault, Jethro, so don't complain." She explained to Sam, "He's not allowed to drive my jeep anymore. Too reckless; nearly wrecked it _twice."_

Gibbs glowered but Molly just smiled and engaged Sam in light conversation all the way to the house. The guest room really was nice and very pretty. In the ensuite bathroom, Molly had a stack of lovely thick towels for her use plus a beautiful little basket of special soaps and lotions that smelled heavenly. There was a small color TV for her to relax with, a bottle of aspirin and other notions in a wicker medicine cabinet, everything a person might need.

That evening after her shower, she stretched out in a bed so comfortable she never wanted to leave it. Everything seemed to gently wrap right around her in total relaxation.

During the night hours, teams of FBI agents took shifts of silently patrolling the exterior of the house, keeping watch.

At Sam's now-empty apartment, a dark figure watched from within the heavily shadowed treeline that separated the back perimeter of the large park from the lightly traveled street in front of the fire-damaged house. The tall woman hadn't come home tonight. Did the fire get inside her place? Maybe. So she would be living somewhere else for a while.

The man with her; was he a boyfriend? If he was, who was the first man he'd seen her with? Two boyfriends?

He wasn't sure what to do about the boyfriends. They probably didn't even know about each other. Well, he'd take care of her for stirring up trouble - but he'd have to wait. Waiting was easy.

* * *

Tim found nothing of real interest in the in-depth research he had done on Hope's employees. There was nothing that couldn't be found on any average joe who worked with his hands for a living. A couple had had records for miscellaneous low-level crimes, mostly committed while young, things like selling knock-off pirated videos, petty theft and the like. Each had been clean for a long while now and certainly while being gainfully employed at Hope's. _What_ were they overlooking?

Late that afternoon, the whole team reported what they had done, how, and results - which was pretty much zero.

The FBI reported that there was no suspicious activity outside the Gibbs home the previous night.

Now what?

The bullpen was quiet as the agents wracked their brains, trying to think what they were missing. The answer had to be here, they just didn't know what it was.

Tony looked back over their checklist: Brandy had no serious boyfriends before she met John Martin. Martin had no serious girlfriends before he met Brandy Hope.

They had cleared everybody else. So, they had to go through everything again. The guilty party was on one of their lists.

Tony sighed. "Okay, everybody swap lists and let's go through it from the top."

Weary sighs responded to him, but they knew this was the only thing they could do. Put fresh eyes on it and dig some more.

* * *

One great benefit of having more MCRT teams was that each team had primary on-call duty only one weekend every six weeks and one secondary back-up on-call duty during that same period of time. It felt almost like having a normal life. Tony's mostly regular set work hours made a huge difference, as well. Each of them felt better and performed better because of it.

It had been two weeks now since the fire bombing with no other problems. On Friday afternoon, Sam asked Tony if she could return to her apartment now. All the damage had been repaired and everything looked as good as new.

Tony checked with Gibbs who was hesitant but thought perhaps that the dirtbag had given up or his anger, if that's what it was, had spent itself. They were no where closer to solving the mystery than they were at the beginning. Even the Hope case was languishing. It hadn't yet been relegated to Cold Case status again but it was definitely on the back burner for now.

That evening, Sam drove her own car back to the Gibbs home and loaded her things into it. Thanking Gibbs and Molly most sincerely, Sam at last turned towards home.

Thinking over her options, she decided that she'd enjoy more of the Chinese food she'd had several weeks earlier when all this started. Searching around carefully, there was no sign of the car she'd seen previously nor was there any indication that she had anyone's attention. She was just another government worker going home from the office, having take-out on this Friday night.

Food in hand, she paid and left, again visually clearing the area around her. No headlights followed behind her. Parked in her usual place, Sam smiled as she looked at the now immaculate front of the house. She was home.

* * *

Molly was in the kitchen, rolling out some dough, intent on her baking, she sang along in her slightly off-key voice with Chris Stapleton on the radio Jethro had bought for her when they were on the run.

Jethro smiled to himself, listening as he read a paper. Then the actual words hit him. They were written just for him; had to have been.

When I think of you and the first time we met

And I heard the sound of your sweet gentle voice  
My heart took me over and gave me no choice  
And right then I knew

It makes me want more of you  
Again and again  
I fall more in love with you  
Than I've ever been  
From the moment you wake me up  
Till you kiss me goodnight  
Everything that you do  
It makes me want more of you

When I look at you now that years have gone by  
I think of the memories that time can't erase  
And all of the smiles that you've brought to my face  
You're love's been so true

When I leave this earth you'll be holding my hand  
And it gives me comfort to know you'll be there  
And I'll thank the Lord for the love that we share  
You're heaven to me

Everything that you do  
It makes me want more of you

Listening, he could picture in his mind the first time he had seen her in the DEA office down in Wilmington. She looks exactly the same now as she did then.

He remembered sitting on the balcony of the beachfront hotel, watching the endless waves, thinking about her, never once dreaming that she would one day be his adored wife.

And he really did seem to fall more and more in love with her every passing day. And he was so thankful that she had given him back his smiles, his laughter, his life.

He wasn't going to think about the last part of that song, but he hoped it was far into the future.

He put the paper aside, stood and walked up behind her in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her. Molly leaned back into his embrace with a sweet, happy smile on her face. After a moment he turned her around and chuckled as he brushed away several smudges of flour on her face, then kissed her, gently but with great emotion.

Then he returned to his chair, his face relaxed, as a smile appeared in his eyes.

* * *

Tim sat at his typewriter staring at the wall across from him. His muse must be on vacation because he could think of nothing that would contribute to the story in progress. Page after page went into the waste basket.

Finally he stood up, aggravated, deciding to call Tony.

"Hey, Tim! What's up?"

"Ya busy, Tony?"

"No. Come on over. I'll order a pizza, you bring the beer."

"See ya in about thirty."

A bit later, over hot pizza and cold beer, the two spent a little time talking about the cold case that continued to bedevil them, still not able to come up with anything new.

Though a movie was playing, Tim felt his thoughts drifting.

"Something on your mind, Probie?"

"I guess, though I don't think I can tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"That's just it. I don't know how to put it into words. I can't concentrate. I can't write. I feel restless and uneasy. I'm not sleeping well - and I have no idea why."

"Hmm. Talked to anybody about it?"

"You."

"Well, you got a phone number in that black book of yours you can call? Sometimes a good evening can do wonders for a man, ya know."

"Not in the mood for that."

 _"Not in the mood?"_

"Knock it off, Tony. I'm not in the mood for anything, it seems. I don't know what to do."

Tony's thoughtful green eyes studied his probie's frown and general demeanor. He'd noticed that Tim had been a bit 'off' lately, but then all of them had days like that at one point or another.

"Any idea what brought you to this point?"

"No. Yes. Maybe."

"Out of those three, why don't you try 'maybe'?"

Tim grew quiet, not really sure how to say it, not sure if he should say anything at all. Finally, he responded, "I think I'm tired of being alone. I see Gibbs and Mac so happy with each other they can hardly stand it. Jon and Kat are almost as bad. You and Sam are about to join them. That leaves Marty and me. The team tagalongs. Don't misunderstand, Marty is a terrific guy, but - I don't want to take him home with me in the evening."

Tony was uncharacteriscally quiet as he softly asked, "You miss Delilah?"

"No. Not any more. I just miss having somebody important in my life. I don't want just a 'date', but somebody special."

"Not sure how I can help you, McProbieMine. Let's keep our eyes out for somebody promising. How about another beer?"

"I'd better not, but thanks. I'd probably still be here on your couch in the morning."

"Got any plans this weekend?"

"No. Haven't thought about it."

"Well, why don't we have an early morning run, get cleaned up and get some breakfast, then find something to do after that? There's a great art exhibit in town that might be interesting."

Tim looked at Tony sideways, "Since when did you get interested in art?"

"Always have been, McDoubious. Used to prowl art galleries with my mother when I was a kid. Still do."

Tim was surprised, then realized he shouldn't have been. There were more sides and layers to Tony than anybody would ever guess.

"Sounds good. See you at seven?"

"Yeah. We can make a long tour through the park not far from here."

"Okay. Thanks for the pizza."

"Welcome. Gotta take care of my Probie, don't I?"

After Tim left, Tony picked up the empty bottles and pizza box and put them in the trash. He stretched and glanced at the clock. Still early. He decided to call Sam and check on her.

Her cell rang and rang, finally going to voice mail.

Tony frowned. Maybe she's in the shower. He waited a while and called again. No answer. Called after another short wait. No answer.

He pulled on a jacket, grabbed his keys, badge and service weapon and drove to Alexandria. No lights on in the apartment, but her car was parked in front.

Grabbing a flashlight from the glovebox, he walked to her car, shining the light in the interior, he saw two bags from the Chinese place in the passenger seat, her go-bag was on the floor in the back, and her purse was on the floor in the front.

His heart thundering in his broad chest, he hit a speed-dial number that would notify dispatch to call his team to the address. He then called Fornell.

"DiNozzo, don't tell me you're in trouble this early on a Friday night."

"Tobias, Sam's been kidnapped."

He gave the Fibbie the address, then called Gibbs.

"On the way, DiNozzo. Have you talked to the owners of the house?"

"Not yet. Called in the team, you and Fornell first." He explained what he had found. "She barely got out of the car before she was taken."

"Stay where you are. Be there in a minute." Gibbs' cell snapped shut. He didn't have to remind his former SFA to secure the scene.

Tony gritted his teeth together and tried to get his pounding heart under control. He wished he knew Molly's God a little better 'cause he really wanted to pray right now. "God, I know you're not used to hearing from me - but, I need help. Sam's gone and I have to find her. Please help me!"

He was interrupted by the sound of a fast-approaching car. Jon and Kat skidded to a stop and parked on the side of the road adjacent to the side of Sam's apartment, trotting quickly to DiNozzo's side. Fornell had alerted one of his teams which included Kat so for the first time, she and Jon would be working on the same case together.

Gibbs was out of his car before it really stopped, joined momentarily by Molly, who had Roger on a leash. Knowing his nose, she hoped she could track Sam after she was taken from her car and they'd find a clue.

The others arrived very quickly afterward. Tony went over everything for the benefit of the team. Before they approached the abandoned car, Molly walked Roger close to the car, ordering him to search. It took him a second for him to figure out what she wanted him to search _for_ but the instant he caught Sam's scent, he began following a trail only he could detect back to an area on the street, then sat down and whined. That's where the trail ended.

Marty brought his investigation kit and carefully looked over the exterior of the car with gloved hands dusting for fingerprints as Tim began taking photos. Others checked for possible footprints around it. All that completed, Gibbs and Fornell briefly checked the interior, disturbing as little as possible, leaving that delicate task to the forensics people.

Molly tapped on the inner door to the homeowner's downstairs part of the home, introduced herself and explained what was happening outside. No, they hadn't heard a thing; they'd been watching TV in the back part of their home.

Assuring the elderly couple that they were in no danger, Molly returned to Tony, with the little info she had. Fornell had summoned reinforcements from his agency and they were going from house to house around the immediate neighborhood questioning people with no better result than Molly had had.

A BOLO was issued for Sam, though there was no way to know what vehicle she may be in. Hopefully, her heighth, face and long black hair would make her more easily identifiable.

Tony was working hard to keep himself focused and undercontrol, but his fear for her was evident in his eyes. What little evidence they had was sent back to the lab. Jon and Kat went to the Chinese place where she had bought her food, hoping to get a clue, even a tiny one would help. At the moment, the teams had absolutely nothing to guide them.

The owner of the small restaurant, a small man with bright black eyes, recalled Sam easily, bowing with a smile as he said, "Oh, she nice lady. Come often, enjoy good food." But no one had noticed anything that may have taken place in the dark outside the restaurant.

The two returned to the large group of agents searching for anything in the area.

An agency towtruck carried Sam's car back to the evidence garage where Dr. Dave Holland and his assistant were waiting. Dave sent the prints from the exterior of the car to Georgia Daniels, one of the new scientists, to begin processing.

How could they find her when they didn't know who, what kind or color vehicle, or where she was taken?

Fornell and Gibbs exchanged a somber glance. They had to find something to work with! Tony's team was praying that this wouldn't be another Brandy Hope case. They wouldn't stop until they had Sam back with them again.

* * *

Sam began to stir, slowly becoming aware of a pounding headache. And her hands - tied behind her? _'What - - - - -?'_ Her eyes opened sluggishly but there wasn't a lot to see in the dim light, especially as blurry as her vision seemed to be. She could just make out what she thought might be one horizontal window up high close to the ceiling.

She was cold though not freezing, but she was experiencing some difficulty in breathing. She felt as if she had to force her body to take proper breaths. Glancing down she recognized her dark blue coat. Thank goodness she still had that for warmth.

Actually she couldn't form full thoughts and sentences yet, all her information seemed to come from instinct and reactions rather than conscious deductions.

She struggled to get herself into a more upright position which was not easy with her hands tied behind her. She shook her long hair out of her face as best she could which made her feel woozy which in turn got her stomach's attention. _'Oh, no - - -.'_

' _Where is this? How did I get here?"_ she finallyasked herself. Forcing her mind to function through whatever drug had knocked her out, she slowly began to recall her movements the night before: leaving the office, stopping for take-out, driving home, parking the car - then - what? She had no idea. Her memory seemed to stop and there was nothing until now.

She slowly turned her eyes to scan the place she was in; maybe a basement of some kind. Plain concrete walls to go with the concrete floors though the area where she was sitting was covered by what looked to be an old piece of carpet.

Nothing in here except whatever that machinery was - heating unit? As if confirming her guess, the unit hummed to life with a slight shimmy, ran for a bit, then returned to silence. Wonder if - was there any warmth to be found close to the unit?

She decided to try to move herself and the piece of carpet close. Maybe if she could lean against it, she could absorb a little warmth. The effort of attempting the move the several feet necessary to reach her goal took much more out of her than she'd have ever expected. But she'd made it. There was only a faint bit of heat lingering in the metal outer case of the unit, but it was better than nothing.

Her throat was so dry that it felt cracked, adding to her overall discomfort. Not that she felt the need at the moment, but she also noted that there was no accommodation for restroom facilities. She closed her eyes and concentrated on forcing air into and out of her lungs. She had never had respiratory problems before and had no idea what had brought this on. Was she coming down with pneumonia?

Time passed and she drifted into the fog of sleep again, still leaning against the heating unit. When she next awoke, her hands were now tied in front of her and a bottle of water had been left where she could reach it. Why didn't she wake up when the kidnapper returned? She had no idea.

* * *

Federals agents were swarming all over DC, checking traffic cams, CCTV cams, searching hard and fast for anything that would conceivably point them to Sam's location.

No response to the BOLO. Nothing helpful from the lab. Nothing helpful at the scene. Tony was keeping himself together only by great effort on his part.

Marty and Molly returned to Hope's Automotive Service, asking Jared Hope without preamble if all his workmen had reported to work. "Yeah, except Johnny left early with vomiting and stomach cramps. Why? What's going on?"

Ignoring the man's question, Marty told him, "We need to speak with each man, one at a time."

"Now, wait a minute!" Hope protested. "I got a business to run here and we won't get anything done with you people constantly disrupting."

"Mr. Hope, this is important or we wouldn't be here, believe me. We'll use your office. Send in the first man."

Settling themselves in the visitor's chairs, a furious Hope sent in one man after the other. When no one else came in, Molly asked him, "Where's Brian Roberts?"

Hope hesitated. "Brian has good days and not so good days. Today isn't a good one. He's having trouble doing anything at all. Go easy on him. He can't handle pressure, okay?"

Momentarily, the disabled vet came into the office, standing just inside the door, blinking at the two agents.

"Brian, can you tell us what you did last night?"

Roberts' face wore a puzzled expression. "Just did like always. Think I went home, ate something and went to bed."

"You watch TV or anything?"

"Not much. Can't keep up with things too good sometimes. I listen to the radio. I like music."

"So you didn't go anywhere except home, is that right?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"But you don't really remember?"

"No. I - forget a lot. Can't remember sometimes."

"If you had gone somewhere different, you'd remember?"

"Dunno."

"You remember meeting a really tall woman with long black hair not long ago? She came and asked some questions."

Brian's face was still as he tried to recall. "Might have. I think I remember somebody like that. Why was she asking questions?"

"She was trying to find any new clue that might tell us who killed Mr. Hope's sister."

"Oh, the boss doesn't wanna talk about his sister. Makes him real sad. Sometimes he cries when he thinks I'm not looking. We don't talk about it. He's a good man."

"Yes, he is. He loved his sister a lot. So he doesn't talk about her?"

"No, sir. Or not much. I think one time he got mad at her, but I'm not sure. Might be just my memory again."

"Do you know what he was mad about?"

Brian shrugged. "No. But I think maybe he didn't like her boyfriend. She was gonna get married, maybe?"

"And that made the boss mad?"

"Yeah. And he never used to get mad. Maybe that's why I can sorta remember it. He's a really good man. He gave me a good job when nobody else would. I don't have to live in that other place anymore. Got my own place now. He's a very good man."

"Yes, he is. I'm glad you met him. How _did_ you meet him?"

Again, the effort to bring up information that his brain injury thwarts. "I can't remember. We can ask him. He'll know."

"Okay. Thanks for talking with us, Brian." Marty stood and offered his hand to the vet. Brian's eyes flickered down to Marty's big hand, then he broke into a big smile and shook it. Marty said quietly, "Ooohrah, Marine."

Brian responded with a happy "Ooohrah, sir! Semper Fi!"

* * *

Driving back to the office, Marty and Molly were thoughtfully quiet until Molly commented, "Marty, Brian can't remember what he had for breakfast, but he remembers that Hope got mad at Brandy over John Martin, supposedly. That must have made a big impact on him."

"Yeah, I was just thinkin' the same thing. Not sure what to make of it yet."

Molly nodded as they both retreated back into their thoughts until their arrival at the office. Gibbs and Fornell were present as the two agents gave their report to Tony. They were quiet as they processed the information.

Fornell asked, "Wonder if it would make any difference for a couple of FBI agents to call on him, see if that makes any difference?"

"Hope or Roberts?"

"Either. Both."

Gibbs shook his head and muttered, "I'd send the Easter Bunny if it'd help."

Fornell nodded then one eyebrow tweaked upward. "Better yet..."

Gibbs' mouth twitched as he headed toward the elevator, his FBI counterpart close behind.

* * *

::

continued

::


	5. Chapter 5

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 5

Sam had lost track of time. By the amount of light outside the high window, it was day - but what day? Her mind was still fuzzy from whatever drugs or chemicals had been forced upon her and she had no idea how long she had been out.

The team would be looking for her, she knew that without a doubt, but would they be able to find her? She herself didn't even know where she was.

Maybe the kidnapper would come back and she could learn something - like _why?_ Was she being held for ransome? If not, what? And always - why?

Her feet were not tied, which she found odd, so she had gotten up when her head felt steady enough and explored the small room she was in. There were concrete steps leading up to a sturdy locked door, the big heating unit, a broom and dustpan, and that was it.

She returned to the piece of carpet and eased herself down, wrapping the blue coat around herself as snugly as possible. The side of her head resting against the metal casing of the unit, she wished she could get more water. She realized that she was feeling the effects of dehydration in addition to the after-effects of the drugs. And she had eaten nothing since a small salad yesterday at lunch, if that really was yesterday. She could manage without food for a while but she had to have water. She had pounded on the door leading upstairs but no one had responded.

Shifting a little, she again stared at the window so high above. If she just had a ladder, chair or stool of some sort, she might be able to get out.

Then her mind drifted to a tall man with a strong athletic build and blue-green eyes. Would she ever see him again? They had just made their first off-duty, informal contacts and now this. She knew Tony would have everyone out looking for her.

Then the thought hit her mind that she may not even be in the Washington area anymore. Fear trilled through the very core of her being. The light outside had begun to slowly fade signaling the imminate arrival of another night.

Sam had never felt so alone and frightened in her entire life. Not even in the Navy had she experienced anything like this. Alone and lonesome. Tears wanted to be released but she fought them back. No. She was stronger than this. She was the product of an infinitely patient tribe of people who had endured great hardship through the generations. She could endure.

Memories of lessons taught to her by her beloved grandfather began to invade her mind, forcing the renments of fear to evaporate. She was Shawnee, a proud tribe who had survived much since the beginning of time. She would survive now. Her Shawnee blood stirred, warming her, reviving her hope, her determination. She would not succumb.

* * *

Tony was on the edge of despair. They had absolutely _nothing_ to go on. He wondered, not for the first time, if Sam had been carried to another state, another city. They had no way to know.

BOLOs and alerts had been broadcast far and wide but so far there had been no response.

Gibbs had been watching him from the balcony above before he came down to the bullpen. With a slight gesture with his head, he told the MCRT team leader to follow him. Back upstairs, he said, "Sit, Tony," gesturing to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He poured two cups of coffee and added the chemical flavor mixture that Tony liked in his cup, then handed it to him.

"Whacha got, DiNozzo?"

In total frustration, the SSA snapped, " _Nothing_ , Gibbs! Not a damned thing! We have no idea where she is, could be anywhere!"

Gibbs knew all of this but he wanted DiNozzo to blow off some steam, decompress, so he deliberately asked questions that would draw forth the responses he wanted to achieve that goal.

"Why don't you send out another BOLO?"

"Boss, the entire countryside has been wallpapered with them - and nobody has reported anything," Tony growled. "Won't do any good to paste on another layer."

"Why not?"

Tony couldn't believe Gibbs was being so obtuse. Sure he knew better!

"Why not? If the first batch didn't bring any results, why would the second one? Or the third one? Or the tenth one?" Tony stood and paced around the office, running stressed fingers through his hair again and again during the process.

"Boss, I gotta find some way to get her back! I can't lose her! Gotta get her back."

More pacing, his normally carefully styled hair now completely wrecked by his own fingers as Gibbs watched silently, staying still in his chair behind the desk, waiting until it would be time to fire another volley to draw more pent-up emotion from the younger man.

"How 'bout if I send you home. Maybe you need some rest. Get a fresh perspective when you come back."

Tony looked at Gibbs, mouth agape. "Gibbs, surely you know that won't help! Do you think I could stay in that apartment for one minute while she's still missing? Want to drive me nuts? Well, that would be a good way to do it!" DiNozzo's voice kept rising in pitch as more and more venting took place.

Gibbs had known that at some point DiNozzo was going to erupt and it would be much better if the eruption was directed at him in the privacy of his office, so he kept digging.

"You sure you've checked everything? Who haven't you checked into? Sam have any enemies? Somebody jealous of her?"

That did it. It was all Gibbs could do to keep his expression neutral as the DiNozzo volcano erupted in all its glory. Surely he was clearly audible to people downstairs. In the next building.

He was actually surprised that the agent didn't attack him in his raging fury.

Then the worst of the storm seemed to have passed as the agent's volume and vitriol seemed to be lessening by the second.

At last the agent, breathing hard, sat back down in the chair and rubbed his face one last time. Looking at the still calm, unruffled Gibbs, he muttered, "Ya played me, didn't ya, Boss?"

"Feel better?"

"Yeah," DiNozzo sighed. "Boss, what am I going to do? I have to find her!"

"We will, Tony. Don't know when, but we will."

Tony glanced up at Gibbs through the fingers still restlessly dividing their time between his face and his hair. "How do you know that, Gibbs? You can't anymore than I can."

"Yeah, I do. I know the people out scouring every nook and cranny for her. I know you and you won't stop until you have answers. So, yeah, I do know."

DiNozzo just nodded, too worn out emotionally to argue.

"Wantcha to go to Ducky's office and take a nap on his couch. When you wake up, we'll get something to eat."

Tony started to argue but Gibbs' overrode him. "That wasn't a suggestion, DiNozzo! Go!"

Tony reluctantly began to stand, taking a breath to argue more, but again he was cut off. _"NOW!"_

Casting a glum glance at the senior agent, Tony turned and left. Gibbs picked up the phone when the door closed and punched in a number.

"Dr. Mallard here."

"Duck, sending DiNozzo your way. Make him take a nap in your office. He's ready to collapse."

"Oh, dear. I shall do that, Jethro. Here he comes," then the Medical Examiner broke the connection.

"Ah, Anthony! How good to see you. How can I help you?"

"Gibbs said I had - to take a nap on your couch. I feel like a three-year old being sent to his room!" he muttered in response.

Ducky chuckled as he guided his visitor to a comfortable chair in his office. "Here, dear boy. Let's start with a cup of my finest tea. That's always helpful, no matter what the situation. Sit, lad! It'll only take a moment."

Having a hot plate in his new office ensured the genial doctor of always having hot water immediately available for emergencies such as this. In only moments, the two sat in the lovely office, quietly sipping from their cups.

Gradually, Ducky drew fear and frustration out of the agent as he closely watched the younger man's eyes. Finally DiNozzo muttered, "I think I really could use a nap, Ducky. Gotten real sleepy."

"Of course, my young friend. Stretch out and be comfortable. Here's a nice warm afghan. I'll turn the lights off so you'll not be disturbed."

Tony was already asleep as Mallard softly closed the door with a smile. The wily doctor's own private concoction of colorless, tasteless and odorless sleep aid was most handy when agents tried to put themselves into an early grave through too much stress and not allotting themselves proper rest. They'd never succeed as long as he was around and had some tea to put it in.

Later, Gibbs came downstairs and dismissed Tony's team, instructing them to shut down and follow him to one of their favorite hangouts where good, homestyle cooking was always available. After a round or two of drinks, good hot nurishing food filling their stomachs, he told them to go home and sleep. Report at 0800 in the morning.

A full thirteen hours later, Tony began to rouse from his long, much-needed sleep, blinking eyes attempting to find out where he was. That's when he realized that he had fallen victim to the kind ministrations of the good-hearted doctor once again. The team of Gibbs and Mallard was more than just a little formidable; they were a combination that could not be overcome.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, stretching and yawning. Standing, he folded the warm afghan, returning it to its place draped over one end of the couch, opening the door.

Ducky looked up from the papers on which he worked with a huge smile. "Anthony! I am so pleased that you at last slept. You must feel much better!"

Tony grinned, "Yes, I do, Ducky, but you should be feeling pleased with _yourself_. You got me again."

Completely unabashed, the doctor chuckled, "A wee bit of help never hurts. Now, why don't you go have a hot refreshing shower, then you and I will go in search of a wonderful hot breakfast."

Still grinning, Tony gave his friend a quick hug with a soft, "Thanks, Ducky. I'll see you shortly."

* * *

He was losing his nerve - but he couldn't let that happen. He was going to have to go through with it now, whether he wanted to or not.

It had seemed like such a good idea, and everything had worked perfectly in the beginning. Wasn't like it was the first time so why the shakes and hesitation now?

Keeping her quiet with those drugs sure helped. She hadn't even known he was there last time. Maybe he should just leave her there. Without food and water she wouldn't last that long. That might be easier, wouldn't even have to go through everything to dispose of her body. Just leave it there. Nobody ever had reason to go down there. The more he thought about it, the better that sounded.

The first time, he hadn't had to worry with all that stuff; just let her fall where she was. Let somebody else clean up the mess.

One thing for certain. He couldn't let this woman or her friends keep snooping around. It had been quite a while now and nobody had ever even gotten close before. Why did this one have to start it up again? Well, if the feds were chasing around looking for her, they wouldn't have time to spend looking for him. He didn't think anybody knew anything but it's better not to take any chances.

Okay, so that's what he'd do. Just leave her there. Maybe go down there in six months or so just to check.

* * *

The next day Sam leaned against the cold concrete wall opposite the heating unit staring at it. It was well made, standing about four feet high, two-and-a-half feet on a side, fastened togeth with a series of screws. Moving over to the side wall, she compared the height of the metal casing to that of the window near the ceiling.

It would take time but she could do it! What if the kidnapper came back and found what she was doing? Well, she'd have to take whatever he dished out, but she wasn't just going to sit here doing nothing.

She managed to get her knife out of her belt and began working on cutting through the cords wrapped around her wrists. It was difficult to handle the knife but she kept at it, having to stop now and then to rest her fingers, which were trying to cramp. Eventually her perserverance paid off and she shook the cord off.

Next she began carefully unscrewing the screws of the heating unit. The knife made a poor hand tool, but it was certainly better than nothing. It was very time consuming but she had nothing but time until the kidnapper returned, which could be at any moment or never.

One side of one panel was now loose. She started on the next one but had to stop. The muscles of her hands and fingers were quivering from the concentrated effort she had had to put into removing the screws. There were twenty per side for a total of eighty.

Seated on the piece of carpet, she leaned back against the wall and massaged her finger, hands and wrists as best she could. Eyes closed, she prayed, then drifted into sleep.

Her dreams were disjointed and chaotic, frightening and puzzling. She dreamed that something was clawing at her throat which was burning fiercely and she abruptly awakened.

Her throat was burning, feeling cracked from dryness. She couldn't even make her mouth produce any saliva with which to swallow, and her tongue was beginning to swell, only a little but swelling still.

If she didn't get out of this place soon, she was going to die and that was a fact. Heart still racing from the terrible dreams, she decided to continue removing the screws. She could do that by feel so light wasn't necessary and it would help keep her mind occupied.

By the time morning arrived, only one side was left to be unscrewed. She rested for a short time, then returned to her work. Her hands were swollen, bruised, blistered, and painful, but she refused to stop. She remembered her grandfather telling her that pain could be overcome by the mind, so she began focusing on his wise words, remembering again who she was.

Finally the last piece of the heating unit's casing was free. She smiled as she looked up at the window again.

Sitting on the piece of carpet, she began piecing the pieces of the casing together again, replacing all the screws she had just finished taking out. The casing didn't have the strength it did when it was attached to the sturdy frame of the unit itself, but hopefully it would be strong enough.

By the time the shadows were shifting with the afternoon sun, she had reassembled the casing and dragged it to the wall beneath the window. Smiling, she replaced her knife back into its secret hiding place in her belt and studied the casing for a long moment.

Now or never.

The agent placed one knee on top of the casing and slowly, carefully eased the rest of her weight onto it. It was holding! Rising slowly to her feet she touched the wall with her battered hands to steady herself and keep her balance.

Once standing, her eyes were at window heighth but the glass was so dirty and clouded it was impossible to see out.

She wrapped her scarf from her coat pocket around her hand and turned her face away as she hit the glass as hard as she could and heard the welcome sound of shattering glass. She pounded all the glass out, leaving the scarf in place to contain the bleeding from the many cuts her hand and arm had sustained.

Taking a deep breath and a last look at the still locked door, she gripped the edge of the window frame and lifted one long leg up high enough that she was able to hook the back of her boot heel over the frame and slowly pulled herself up then, at last, over and fell to the ground, breath heaving, her sweaty face chilled in the evening air.

For a long moment, she laid where she landed, giving herself a moment to recover and catch her breath. When she felt steadier, she again got to her feet and looked around. There were only old buildings in various stages of decay around her. She was in an area enclosed by a tall privacy fence. Walking the perimeter, she located a gate and slowly opened it, trying to keep its protesting screech as quiet as possible.

She peered through the small opening out at a street that seemed to be mostly empty. There was a good bit of trash and litter on the ground, paper teased by a light breeze nudging it around in no particular pattern.

Opening the gate a little more she got a better look both ways of the street, seeing only more of the same. Some of the old homes on this street were still occupied, as attested by the pale yellow glow from a window here and there.

She looked up at the building that had been her prison, seeing that it was identical to its neighbors.

Fastening her coat which covered her long black hair, she cautiously eased out onto a broken sidewalk and hurried away from the house whose basement had held her, she kept her head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone she might encounter. Surely there had to be a phone around somewhere.

After hurrying down the side walk for several blocks, she had seen nothing that would give her any indication where she was and had seen no one except a couple of druggies stumbling on their way somewhere and a drunk or two who were just waking up from the binge of the previous night.

Studying the sky, there seemed to be lights in a direction to her left, but couldn't really tell how far away they were. She set of in that direction, avoiding clumps of people here and there. She didn't dare stop to ask questions; they were people best left alone.

She walked and walked and walked but it didn't really seem that the lights of the town or city were getting any closer. Considering her options, she decided that she didn't really have any other choice. If would do no good to walk toward more darkness.

Sam stopped and leaned against the wall of a building. Her respiration rate was high, her head was absolutely about to fragment from the headache she had, and she felt as if she was choking from her swelling tongue and her dry cracked throat was completely raw and slightly bleeding.

Without help, she wouldn't be able to get much farther. Still she kept putting one foot in front of the other, keeping her hand on a building to keep her as oriented as she could.

Then Sam became aware that she was hearing her grandfather's deep, quiet voice talking to her. He was right here beside her. "Grandfather! How did you know I needed you?"

"Daughter of my daughter, I always know where you are."

"Grandfather, - I need help."

"Yes, Samantha. Just listen to me as you walk. I'm with you."

Not really understanding, she simply nodded and respectfully answered, "Yes, Grandfather."

So she continued walking through the darkness, listening to the comforting sound of that wonderful voice she loved so dearly. Time passed without awareness until the first rays of morning sun hit her in the eyes, startling her.

In the early light, she saw shops and stores that weren't yet open but there were lights on here and there. She saw no one yet. "Grandfather, there are peo - ." Quickly looking around, there was no sign of the tall, strong man she loved so much. "Grandfather?" He was gone.

Sam slowly sank to the sidewalk against the wall of a small shop. She could go no further. Her mind was slowly shutting down, unable to process thoughts or words. She had reached the edge of the city whose lights had been visible through the night.

* * *

After breakfast, Tony returned to the squadroom and Ducky went home for some sleep. Dr. Palmer and the others could manage quite nicely without him for one day.

Tony settled behind his desk, cup of steaming coffee at hand, and began processing email and other messages left for him. Many were of no importance and needed no response, he answered those that did, sighing that there was no news of Sam.

With no leads whatsoever on her, and nothing new on the Hope case, his team would work cold cases today unless they got a call-out.

The day crawled past, leaving the team disheartened and privately frightened as they realized with each passing day of no news made it more and more likely that they wouldn't find their teammate and friend at all. By the end of the day there had still been no news when they closed down for the night and went home with heavy hearts.

Tony had felt better after having that long sleep, but in the darkness of his apartment, there was no sleep to be had. He finally gave up, got up and took a long shower, then dressed and left. He decided that pastries might help his team perk up a little so he made another trip to his favorite pastry shop and got three dozen assorted pastries. He could share them with Balboa's team and maybe others, as well.

Arriving hours early at his desk, he picked out a pastry and ate it slowly, savoring the taste chased by his coffee. Finished, he folded his arms on his desk and rested his head on them, unaware of drifting off to sleep.

Tony felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder. "Tony? Time to wake up."

He raised his head to see a sunlit morning outside and his team was arriving. 0750, according to his watch.

"Thanks, McAlarmclockExtraordinair." He stretched and yawned, blinking the sleep away. Tim watched his boss making his way into the waking world. Different clothes, fresh shave, but obviously little or no sleep.

"What time did you get here, Tony?" he asked with concern.

Tony shrugged. "Don't really know, McProbie. Was still dark." Putting on a bright face, he added, "Brought pastries for everybody. Tell Rocky's people to come get some, too. Plenty to go around."

Tim just nodded. He knew that Tony was taking Sam's disappearance hard, but there was nothing he knew of to do that would be even the least bit helpful. Nothing was going to help any of them until they found Sam.

He laid a hand on Tony's shoulder for a quick moment, then turned toward his own desk. Tim's heart was soft and gentle. He genuinely cared about people and he hated not being able to help the man who was his best friend.

Tony may aggravate the stuffing out of him sometimes, but he was always there anytime Tim needed it. At times his help may be a little unorthodox, but it always turns out to be exactly what he needed.

Tony carried the box of pastries to anyone who would take one. His pastries said so much to every one. They knew he cared for all of them and did his level best to take care of everybody, on his team or not. That's just the way he was. Which made the disappearance of one of his people that much harder.

Tony would always see things as being his fault, thinking he should have done this or that, always carrying guilt for his perceived failure. Because Sam was someone extra special to him, it made it that much worse.

* * *

::

continued

::


	6. Chapter 6

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 6

While Tony was out on another coffee run for the team, Tim studied the zero status response of their last BOLO and decided to send it again, just in case. He sighed with angry frustration. How could they _ever_ relegate Sam's disappearance to a Cold Case status? He didn't think he could continue if that happened, though he realistically knew that it was a possibility.

Tony was so restless he could barely stay seated for more than a couple of minutes. It seemed that everybody in the building needed coffee every few minutes, in Tony's estimation. No one said anything, simply thanking him for the fresh coffee. Gibbs had even taken him down to the gym for a time, then to the big new indoor shooting range in the basement of the building. Something had to give soon or the MCRT leader was going to come apart at the seams.

Less than a quarter hour before their end-of-shift, the phone rang and, in Tony's absence, Tim answered.

"Special Agent McGee."

"Agent McGee, this is Dr. David Danford at Holy Cross Hospital in Silver Springs. Your BOLO has come to our attention and there is a possibility that the person you're looking for is a patient here listed as Jane Doe. She was brought in by local police who found her collapsed on a sidewalk a couple of days ago."

Tim's heart was pounding hard enough to drown out a rock band. "She fits the description? Has she said anything?" Chills chased themselves all over him. The entire team was frozen in place, unwavering eyes pinned on the SFA, breath being held.

"Yes, she does. Tall, long black hair, appears to have Native American features. No, she hasn't said a word. She was in pretty bad shape when she got here."

"We'll be right there! Thank you, Doctor!"

Dropping the phone into the cradle, he grabbed his badge and weapon, yelling, _"Somebody find Tony! I think we've found her! Mac, with me!"_

Racing out of the room, the two agents grabbed the first vehicle they came to which happened to be Molly's red jeep. Having given Roger the signal to stay, she dove into the driver's seat as Tim swung himself into the passenger seat. Molly had the jeep in gear when they heard somebody bellow, "WAIT!" Tony raced up, scrambling into the backseat a second before the jeep dropped into a lower gear and tore out of the parking facility.

A crestfallen Roger walked to the big window, his front paws on the lower edge as he stood on hind legs watching his beloved human scratch out of the parking area and rapidly disappear from sight. Sitting down with a sigh, his opinion of being left behind was clear. Even his beautiful coat seemed to droop.

Molly just may have bested Jethro in a drive-off with the ride to the hospital in Silver Springs. They skidded to a halt, tossed a "Federal Officer on Official Business" tag onto the dash so that it showed through the windshield, and ran into the entrance. Getting directions, they hurried up to the fifth floor and saw Dr. Danford waiting for them, a quiet smile on his face as he leaned one side against the nurses' station.

"Undoubtedly, you are the agents who have been looking for a missing colleague."

"Yes. Yes, sir," Tony responded, slightly out of breath. "NCIS Special agents DiNozzo, McGee and MacKenzie," he rattled off quickly.

The doctor smiled, "I daresay I thought Bolling was farther away than the mere minutes it took you to travel it."

Molly grinned, "Been takin' lessons from my husband, doctor. About Sam..."

"Yes, Sam. On arrival, she was just out-of-it. There's no other way to describe it. Apparently she'd not had food or water in quite a few days as she was dangerously dehydrated, though IVs are making great inroads on that and we're bringing her electrolites back to normal. We'll begin light feeding when she is cognitive enough to be able to swallow and she's able to tolerate swallowing. Her throat was in horrific condition from extreme dryness but that too is improving."

"When can we see her, doctor?" Tony asked anxiously.

Walking them down the hall as he told them, "Come this way; I'll show you. Don't expect too much at first. She's rebounded a lot but still has some ground to cover."

Turning toward a door, he stopped and held out a hand indicating that they could enter, then followed them inside. All three agents clustered around her bed, trying to quieten laughs of pure relief in finding their missing teammate.

Tony reached for her hand that was quietly resting on the clean blanket that covered her. He leaned closer to her, saying softly, "Sam? Can you hear me? We're with you, Sam. You're going to be fine."

Sam's face drew into a small frown as she tried to swallow with the sore throat of all sore throats. Sore didn't even being to describe the savage pain. It was plain that swallowing was not yet something she'd willingly repeat. She tried to get her eyes open as a silent "Tony?" sought the agent.

"Yes, we're here, Sam. Tim, MollyMac and me. Rest for now, get better. Dr. Danford is taking super-good care of you. Just sleep, heal and we'll be in and out as our caseload allows, ok? Everybody is thrilled to have you back but we'll talk about that later."

Sam apparently got the message since her faced relaxed and she seemed to sink into deep, peaceful, restful sleep.

Dr. Danford told the agents, "We need some information on her if you don't mind. We've had nothing to go on until now."

Tony nodded, "I'll give you her name and have HR send medical records if you need them. McGee and I will be her contact numbers, though anyone on our team will be just as good."

"Excellent. If you'll come with me..."

The happy, relieved trio trailed after the doctor back to the nurses' station where basic information was provided but anything more had to come from HR to comply with HIPA regulations. Tim was already on the phone with that department, organizing the requested info and the contact numbers here at the hospital.

Molly called Jethro with the news and could barely keep her emotional tears from escaping. Gibbs would inform the Director. As soon as she finished that call, she rang Jon and gave him the news that they had a positive ID and that with a bit more recovery time, Sam should be fine. As Jon repeated this to the others, she could hear the cheering in the background of everyone in the squadroom.

This horrible ordeal was nearly over. As soon as Sam could talk, or write, they'd get the details and begin the hunt for the guilty party.

Gibbs called DiNozzo, telling him that he had arranged 24/7 protection for her. They still had no idea who had done this or where that person might be. They had hardly hung up when two FBI agents appeared, sent by Fornell.

One last short visit to the still-sleeping Special Agent Samantha Wolfe, then they turned to leave, trusting her to Fornell's fibbies, though DiNozzo would be with her every moment he could get away.

* * *

Two days later, a recovering Samantha smiled weakly when Tony again entered her room, followed by Gibbs and Fornell.

It was still far too painful to talk, but she could write her responses to their questions. Naturally, the first question was "What happened?"

All she could tell them was that as she got out of the car and reached inside for her things, someone came up out of the darkness behind her and held a cloth soaked in something over her mouth and nose and she knew nothing until she came to in the basement. She didn't know if that was a matter of hours or days later.

No, she never saw his face but he was about her height or a little more and was very strong. She related her experiences in the basement, how she escaped and the long, long all afternoon, all night walk. She didn't really remember collapsing on the sidewalk and honestly knew nothing until she woke here in the hospital.

She knew her grandfather had been with her even here at the hospital but she didn't think she should mention that. She had listened to his strong, deep, rich voice speaking to her quietly, telling her deep secrets of her tribal ancestors, things that kept them strong and vibrant even into old age.

She had inhaled the wonderful scent that always reminded her of her happy childhood with him, a scent reminiscent of their powerful horses, a hint of the smoke of ancient pipes, the freshness of the open air of the prairies, the deep green woods. All the wonderful things of home.

He had guided her here to safety and had protected her all the way. But, no. She wouldn't tell them this part of the story. They wouldn't understand.

The three agents exchanged glances. So, they had nothing to go on to find the person who had kidnapped her.

Gibbs softly asked her to describe what she saw when she got out of the basement. Afterward, he asked, "You think you'd recognize it if we drove you to that area?"

Sam hesitated before she wrote, "I'll try my best. It's the basement without a window. Oh - and the heating unit was fairly new. I'd think that would be unusual in an area that old and rundown."

Gibbs and Fornell exchanged a glance, picking up on the clue. "We'll check it all out, Agent Wolfe. Thanks very much for all the information. Continue to get better; we want you back with your team," Fornell said with a smile.

A quiet smile and Sam rested back against the soft pillows. It sure didn't take much to wipe out her energy. The doctor had told her earlier that tomorrow, they'd see if she could swallow some soft pudding or something, hoping to get her to a point where she could eat again and regain some of the weight she had lost.

Sinking back into sleep, she smiled a little. She was being taken care of and everything was going to be alright. She didn't know just how her grandfather had managed all of it, but she knew he had been the one behind her rescue.

* * *

In the car driving back to the DC Field Office, Tony called Tim, "Probie, start running down names of people who had a new heating unit installed in their basement in the last few years in the Silver Springs area."

By the time they pulled in, Tim already had the beginnings of a list and Jon and Marty were locating the addresses on a map. There were certainly more than they would have thought, but considering that there were quite a few heating and air conditioning business doing it full time, they should have expected it. They continued searching and locating the rest of the afternoon until Tony sent them home before he returned to the hospital.

The next day, the leg work began in earnest, teams of agents visiting each house on the list - turning up nothing. The following day they took up where they had left off, one house after another with nothing to show for it by the end of the day.

On the third day, it was nearing sundown when they knocked on the door of a house that had definitely seen better days, way out on the outskirts of the town. Jon and Molly pounded on the door until they thought surely the place was going to collapse. As they were about to give up, an elderly man opened the door, squinting at the agents, asking gruffly, "Who're you? Whattaya want here?"

Jon answered, "NCIS agents Cartwright and MacKenzie. Need to ask you a few questions, sir."

"What? Ya gonna hafta speak up. Cain't hear."

Jon repeated himself loudly. In fact, anyone down the block probably heard him quite clearly. Molly bit her lip to control a grin.

"Okay. So what ya botherin' me for? I'm too old to do anything much 'cept watch TV nowadays."

Again Jon yelled, "Does anyone else live here?"

"Yeah. Got a guy who rents a room. Don't spend much time here. Cain't blame him. Not much to keep him here 'cept to sleep."

"What's his name?" Jon bellowed.

"What's - oh, his name? George Albertson. Mechanic. Works in town somewhere."

"Mind if we have a quick look in your basement?"

"Don't know why. Nothin' down there 'cept the furnace."

"Thank you, Mr. - - ?"

"Cabot. Archie Cabot. Stairs are this way."

Locating the key that hung beside the door, Cabot's old eyes managed to find the keyhole and finally got the door open. They were immediately met with a blast of chilly air. Jon and Molly exchanged a glance. This was the place.

Going down the steps to the basement floor, they saw the piece of carpet Sam had mentioned, but of greater interest was the casing from around the heating machine that she had dismantled, removed, then reassembled and its placement under the high window. Molly returned to the agency sedan for the camera, and began taking pictures of Samantha's prison.

Cabot was astounded to see that his expensive new heating unit had been partially dismantled and that someone had completely demolished the basement's only window.

Jon called it in to Tony and a team was enroute to process the scene. It was hard for Jon to get it across to the old man that a crime had been committed in his basement and it had to be carefully scanned for possible evidence.

Cabot protested, "Seems like the crime was done to me! Just look at what happened to the heater. And - and the window! Who's gonna pay for all that?"

"I don't know, Mr. Cabot, but we'll have to ask you to come back upstairs until after the scene is released."

* * *

Tony spent as much time at the hospital as he could manage. He kept Sam supplied with cold vanilla milk shakes that always felt so good on her healing throat. When she was admitted, everything from her soft palate down was raw and bleeding from deeply cracked, dry tissue that was never intended to be dry.

She couldn't eat solid food, but soft cold pudding and milkshakes suited her fine right now.

Tony had apologized to her repeatedly, in spite of her trying to reassure him that he was not at fault in any way. She looked into his clear eyes and saw his soul. No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to stop the hand that reached up and gently touched the side of his face.

And Tony was equally unable to prevent himself from taking that hand and kissing it.

"Sam, ... I don't - exactly know how to - go about this, so please tell me if I'm out of line. I want to be with you as much as possible. If you're offended, I sincerely apolo - "

"Tony, don't," She whispered. "Don't apologize. I've been so very attracted to you almost since I met you and I've worked hard to keep it hidden. I was afraid you'd kick me off the team." She smiled, "No, I don't object and I'm no way offended. I'm - very happy." She paused, "I understand that we must maintain professionalism at work, but otherwise, off time should be our own, don't you think?"

Tony's smile would have rivaled the sun for brightness. Very, very gently, he leaned forward and kissed her lips sweetly, then backed off as they gazed into each other's eyes with small smiles on their faces.

* * *

Gibbs noticed Tony's upbeat demeanor and happy expression and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Well, it was up to DiNozzo to manage his team and if he, as Tony's superior, noticed any negative repercussions in the team, he'd step in. But until then, he'd let him and his team decide for themselves how to handle it.

Several weeks later, when Sam returned to desk duty, her teammates seemed to be truly happy to have her back again and paid no attention when Tony's hand lingered too long on hers, or when they held each other's eyes too long. So far, so good.

The team's work now centered around tying up any loose threads on the case against George Albertson. Albertson, one of Hope's employees, had apparently killed Brandy Hope because of how despondent, then angry Jared Hope after been when he learned of his sister's condition.

Prior to that, Hope had been a good-natured, genial man who was kind-hearted, always helping someone out. Albertson, certainly not the brightest bulb in the shop, thought if the sister was out of the way, his boss would return to the person he had been before all that came up.

Then when Sam came around asking questions, Albertson knew he had to stop her. At first he thought he could just scare her away, but when that failed, he took the next step.

The only problem was that once he had her locked in the basement, he was finding himself reluctant to kill her. He kept finding reasons to let her live, when actually he was simply losing his nerve. When he had killed Brandy Hope, he had made the decision and carried it out so quickly that he hadn't really had time to think about it much. He realized afterward that he didn't like to kill. That isn't who he was, but it had felt like the right thing to do at the time. George was totally confused with himself.

Then when the feds had come to the shop and arrested him, he couldn't stop his tears of remorse when he saw Hope's face when he realized who had killed his sister. Nothing turned out the way he had thought. And now his was a very bleak future.

He had also seen Brian Roberts' face; stunned, disbelieving, sad. He had helped Brian a lot and now Brian was deeply disappointed in the one he had seen as his friend.

Albertson descended so deeply into despair and depression, he was placed on suicide watch at the prison where he was being held for trial. There had been more than one person who thought he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted to himself.

* * *

Samantha and Tony found themselves in each other's company as often as possible. Tony was battling his protective instincts in wanting to wrap her in cotton wool, safe from everything. But Sam was a strong, independent woman accustomed to taking care of herself. The two were trying to find middle ground even as they could barely stand to be apart.

Sam saw all the excellent qualities in Tony that she had decided long ago that she wanted in a man. He was a genuinely good person with noble instincts of wanting to help others, even at the cost of his own well-being. He was a superior investigator who constantly looked out for others under his command. Nobody had better mess with his people, that's for sure. She had heard that about Agent Gibbs, as well, but that's something that can't be taught; a person either has it or doesn't.

He was a warm person, full of life and vitality, quick-witted, amazingly intelligent, fun to be with. He made her feel like a princess. She'd been tall all her life and had all-too-often felt too awkward and gangly, but Tony somehow erased that. He made her feel delicate and precious, and she loved that about him, as well as everything else.

Tony was falling for Samantha hard. She had a quiet way about her that calmed him when nothing else could. She made up for all his shortcomings which he admitted were many. She was always up for an adventure, willing to try new things, investigate new places - museums, art galleries, concerts. Tony moved so easily in so many circles and he was taking her with him, and she was seeing a whole new world for the first time.

In short, they suited each other perfectly, and the rest of the team were sincerely happy for them.

* * *

Tim and Marty sometimes exchanged a glance and shrugged. What was wrong with them? They were nice people, educated, gainfully employed in an honorable profession, so why couldn't they find a special person as all the others had?

One evening after work, the two tagalongs, as they called themselves, decided to go out for something to eat and maybe have a single beer. They were backup on-call and tomorrow was another workday.

Night came early in late fall and a powerful low pressure system passing through was doing its best to drown the capital city with nonstop rain. They left with the others a little after five, deciding to take Tim's car out to a nice barbeque place Balboa had told them about. It was out of DC in Virginia aways, but it was an easy drive, he had told them.

Marty and Tim were chatting easily as Tim drove conservatively in the pouring rain. Windshield wipers on high were barely able to keep up, so he slowed a little more. Naturally there were the idiots who believed they could drive as fast as usual, as far above the posted speed limit as they felt they could get away with. They'd pass in the other lane, sending ocean waves of water flying into their passage. Those were the times the wipers were woefully inadequate.

Tim coped, keeping his car steady and under control, as he muttered darkly at those with whom he had to share the road.

Marty commented, "It's times like this I truly wish I had a .50 cal mounted on the hood or somewhere, and could just let 'em have it!"

Tim agreed. "The sad part is, they are usually the ones who cause accidents but get away scot-free themselves. Makes me furious!"

Then Marty began telling tales about his encounters with 'pea-brained' drivers, drawing a smile from Tim who was keeping his eyes on the road as he listened.

Not long afterward, they passed a big sign that read 'Smithfield BBQ 2 miles'. Almost there.

Tim noticed a set of headlights moving up on them quickly and braced himself to keep the car under control as another speeding idiot raced past. Except, it wasn't a car but was a big eighteen-wheeler pulling a huge trailer. The amount of water spewed up from the fast-moving rig sent up untold gallons of water that washed over Tim's car like a tsunami. The air pressure exerted outwardly from the truck's rapid passage pushed the car toward the side of the road.

Tim fought the wheel blindly because he had no visibility at the moment. Then the two men felt, as much as heard, the ear-shuddering screech of metal grinding against metal, then the nose of the car pitched downward and the world spun senselessly as the car began to roll over and over and over.

The noise was unbelievable as glass crunched and shattered. Heavy thuds and thumps resonated inside the car like a drum as remaining sheet metal and the steel frame caved in to the enormous forces being thrust upon them as they were battered about amongst trees and boulders as if they were in a wild pinball machine.

After what seemed to be an endless mad ride at some black, horror-filled amusement park, there was silence. The car now rested on its roof in a very deep dark ravine, and rain continued to pour.

* * *

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continued

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	7. Chapter 7

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 7

DiNozzo had just walked into his apartment and tossed his keys on the top of the bookcase when his cell rang.

"DiNozzo."

"Tony, this is Jerry in Dispatch. Sorry to call you out but we have another case and Johansson's team is already out."

"No problem, Jerry. I've got my water wings."

Jerry gave Tony the info he needed and told the team leader that he'd call the rest of the team. Taking a minute to put on a thick warm sweater to wear under his jacket and switch from wet dress shoes to dry socks and a pair of black leather ankle boots, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he got his keys and headed out. A body had been found next to the Marine Memorial near Arlington National Cemetery. A Marine Major, but that's all the info he had at this point.

He called Sam to ask if she wanted to ride with him, but she was already on the road herself. After he had left her apartment, she had gotten a hot shower and was changing for bed when she got the call. Dressing quickly, she had started out only minutes after Dispatch had contacted her.

Jon and Molly had both left quickly after getting their calls, but the team leader hadn't heard from either Tim or Marty yet, though he knew they'd be there ASAP.

At the scene, it appeared that the Major had shot himself in the head but forensics, both scientific and medical, would tell the tale.

The team did a careful and thorough search and examination of the soggy scene but found nothing of value. Ducky placed the TOD - Time of Death - at roughly seven p.m. which was several hours earlier.

Tony and Jon helped Jimmy with loading and moving the Major to the ME's van. The ground was squishy and slick from all the rain and nobody wanted to take a chance on Ducky losing his footing. Their eager offers to help didn't fool the sharp medical examiner in the least but he let them do as they wanted, as he followed them with a little upward quirk at the corner of his mouth.

Body loaded, Tony glanced at his watch with concern. Still no word from either Tim or Marty.

"Did any of you hear where McGee and O'Brien were going?" the team leader asked.

Molly responded, "Something about a BBQ place Balboa told them about."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, they were talking about it as we left."

Tony nodded and punched in another number on his cell. "Hey, Rocky! I apologize for calling, but where is that BBQ place you told Tim and Marty about? They're both UA."

"Smithfield's BBQ near Triangle. About thirty-five miles out on I-95. Need help findin' 'em?"

"Thanks, Rock, I'll see if I can get through to them. Thanks, buddy."

"Anytime, Tony. I'll stand by."

Tony told the three agents with him what he had learned from MCRT Two's leader. Calling the cells of the missing agents provided no info as the calls went unanswered and there were no responses to voice mail messages. Molly and Sam shared a concerned expression on their faces.

"Let's go. Sam, drop your car off at your place and I'll pick you up. The Jeep is great in weather like this. Tony, where will you be?"

"Right behind you two. I've got to drop off the evidence first, but Jon and I should meet up with you pretty quick somewhere on the Interstate."

The route they all took was actually a shortcut to Bolling, then using 495 for a short jump to I-95 which had them right on course. After reaching Alexandria, it took Sam only a second to grab her go-bag from the backseat of her car, toss it into the Jeep, and they were off again.

Tony called Ducky advising him where the team were heading and why.

Repeated calls to both cell phones kept going to Voice Mail. No way would both of them not be answering. Sam and Molly were quiet as they drove. And Molly was right; the Jeep was extremely sure-footed in heavy rain and water-swamped roads. At times it seemed as the roads were more suited for gondolas than cars and trucks.

At reduced speeds, they had ridden nearly an hour on the Interstate when they spotted a portion of a guardrail that was missing, leaving a gaping hole. Molly quickly hit the brakes and turned on her flashing lights, pulling as far off the side of the road as possible. Each agent grabbing a high-powered LED light, they directed the lights down into the ravine, hoping they'd not see either missing agent's car.

It was pouring nonstop which made it very hard to see, as well as a heavy stand of trees that interfered with their line-of-sight. Then Sam pointed, "There. See it?"

"Yeah, looks like part of a bumper. Call 911. I'm gonna see if I can get down there."

"Mac! No! Wait until help gets here."

"Can't, Sam. Hand me that big First Aid box. I'll let it roll down ahead of me. Won't hurt anything inside."

Sam made the call, begging for help to arrive quickly. Meanwhile, a very cautious Molly began slowly finding her way down into the dark ravine. She slipped badly several times but managed to mostly stay upright, though a few times she went down, barely catching herself by grabbing onto rocks and tree roots.

Sam was right behind her, also trying to stay on her feet on the steep, slippery embankment. At last at the bottom, her light joined Molly's in somewhat illuminating the wreckage. The car was barely recognizable as a car and two of the four tires were at odd angles in the air; the other two were nowhere in sight.

Carefully making their way closer, they could see that Marty and Tim were being held upside down by their seatbelts, but neither was moving. Being closer to the passenger side, Molly approached Marty first. Heart pounding, she carefully checked for a pulse and nearly cried when she was able to detect a weak pulse even though it was unsteady.

Not having any idea of what injuries he may have sustained in the horrific crash, she was afraid to release his belt. He needed stronger arms to ease him down than what she and Sam could provide alone.

Trying to pick her way around to the other side of the car, Sam turned an ankle painfully when her foot slid suddenly in the slick mud. She turned the powerful light to the sound of water and saw that what was normally a small trickling stream was becoming a fast running river that was rising too quickly to even believe.

She turned back to the car to find Tim in about the same situation as Marty. His pulse was a little bit stronger but just as unsteady as Marty's.

Sam yelled over the sound of the downpour and the dangerously rising water. "Molly! The water!"

Molly looked, seeing how alarmingly fast it was rising. The former little stream had quickly becoming a growing, raging torrent, heavy debris racing past the wreckage, placing the trapped agents in dire mortal danger.

"Sam, we've got to get them out! They'll drown!"

A cold, cold chill raced down Sam's spine. Scrambling as fast as the slick mud and steady, hard rain would allow, the two women searched quickly for something that would help them. There was no sign of any help coming.

Molly spied a long coil of rope that Jethro had left in the back of the Jeep. Grabbing it, she moved the Jeep so it was better positioned at the gap in the guardrail, then securely tied one end to the rear of the Jeep's frame then threw the other end down the steep embankment, hoping that it would be long enough.

She and Sam then hurried down again, using the rope to help steady themselves as they went. Hearts pounding, the edge of the raging water was already up to the front edge of the wreckage, nudging it out into the deeper water to join the tree trunks and other large pieces of debris that hurtled past.

Thankfully the rope was long enough to reach the exposed underside of the destroyed car and was tied in a secure sailor's knot. Now, if only the rope was strong enough to do what they were asking of it. It looked awfully small to both women though neither would say it.

"C'mon, Sam!" Molly called as she began making her way back up to the highway. Praying that this would work, she scrambled back up the steep bank. Both agents were almost completely covered in wet mud. She gestured for Sam to stand where she'd be safe from backlash if the rope snapped.

Dropping the Jeep down into its lowest, most powerful gear, she slowly took up what little slack there was in the rope and kept steady pressure on it, hoping to keep the rope and the knots intact on both ends.

The spunky little Jeep's engine ground in earnest as it struggled to pull the wreckage of the heavier car up from the muddy, wreckage strewn ravine. At first the mud tried to hold it captive but slowly it began to give way to the Jeep's engine and began inching upward away from the frothing water and certain death.

Inch by careful inch. It seemed that the water was still rising faster than the wreck was being pulled out. It was nerve-wrackingly slow but the remains of the car slowly moved.

Working the clutch and accelerator, concentrating on keeping everything as steady as possible, Molly never noticed when a state trooper's cruiser pulled up a short distance behind her. Sam quickly explained what they were doing and, using bright flares, the trooper blocked off the outer lanes of the highway to give the Jeep room to maneuver a little better.

Somewhere along the way, Tony and Jon arrived, watching the Jeep try to do far more than it was ever designed to do, but so far, it was working. At least there was a little more distance between the wreck and the roiling torrent below. The trooper told the agents that the whole area was under a flash flood warning. Sam just looked at him, thinking, ' _No shit, Sherlock!'_

The Jeep's tires were beginning to have trouble gaining traction on the wet pavement so progress was slowed even more. By this time a pair of ambulances had joined the gathering watching a figurative David pulling a figurative Goliath away from a black pit of watery death.

At last a tow truck arrived and Molly was able to ease the Jeep's engine back enough to hold the wrecked car where it was. Once the driver got a chain attached to the car's fully exposed frame, the truck's super-powerful engine could finish the job.

In another ten minutes, the mangled mess containing the two missing agents was on the side of the roadway. The two teams of EMTs worked together, first assessing, then cutting the agents free, one at a time, and loading them into their waiting ambulances.

Tony and Jon took off after the ambulances, as Molly and Sam rewound the rope, stowed it, and shakily fastened their seatbelts. As Molly started the Jeep again, she looked at Sam, commenting softly, "I forgot to pick up the First Aid kit."

Sam just looked at her. "I'll buy you another one. Drive."

Molly slowly smiled and put the Jeep in gear to move more to the side of the road. The Trooper took their statements and turned them loose.

They drove to the first turnaround, then reversed course back toward DC. By the time the two of them arrived at Bethesda, even Gibbs was on hand to do whatever the agents needed. He was keeping a close watch on the elevator doors opening onto this floor and he stood the moment the last two agents stepped off and made their way toward him; they looked like a pair of half-drowned mudpuppies.

Tony and Jon had already told him what the two women had done before their arrival and credited them with finding and saving Tim and Marty from certain drowning.

His eyes soft and enormously relieved to see his soaking wet, bedraggled and muddy Molly, he wrapped both arms around her and simply stood holding her, ignoring anyone around them. Tony hugged Sam close, checking just to be sure she wasn't injured other than her ankle.

One of the nurses, having heard the story, brought two sets of scrubs for Molly and Sam, showing them to the staff room where they could get hot showers and into dry clothing. As Molly watched the brown mud swirling down the drain, she leaned her head against the shower wall, praying, thanking her God for hearing her prayers, saving her friends.

People may say that the Jeep did an amazing job, but she knew whose hand was helping it along, keeping the tension on the rope so precise and steady. She knew who got Tim and Marty to safety and it wasn't her.

An intern examined Sam's swollen ankle and secured it with a compression bandage before giving her the RICE instructions: Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.

Later, doctors gave their reports on Tim and Marty to the anxiously waiting agents. Both men had multiple broken bones, severe bruising, cuts and concussions. Broken arms had been set and placed in casts, but the broken legs and ankles would require surgery at a later date. The orthopedic surgeons wanted them to recover from the concussions as much as possible before exposing them to the rigors of prolonged anesthesia and surgery.

The most welcome news was that though there were multiple injuries, they had full expectations of total recovery for both agents, though it would be a while before either would be back in the field.

Molly and Sam sat quietly in the waiting area until their teammates were settled into a room. The doctors had quickly recognized that life would be more pleasant for everybody if the two agents were put in the same room from the outset.

Neither woman said much, but their eyes acknowledged how very close they had come to losing their friends. They were the only ones who had been down in that ravine and had seen the water that had seemed determined to claim Tim and Marty as its victims.

Questioned by both Tony and Gibbs, they reported exactly what they had done and why. When Gibbs realized which rope they had used, he said nothing but his face assumed a pallor that was a testimony in itself.

* * *

For the first few days, both hospitalized agents were kept pretty well sedated to ease them through the pain of their injuries.

During ensuing time, both made steady progress in recovering from their concussions though neither could keep track of anything and repeatedly tried to ask the same questions whenever they'd rouse up toward consciousness. And neither had any idea why they were in the hospital, vaguely wondering who was the guy in the other bed.

It was enough for the time being for their teammates, knowing that time would see their friends back at work with them again.

On the sixth day, Tim had progressed enough that the surgeons felt that he could tolerate the surgery to repair his badly broken left leg and right ankle. Roughly twenty-four hours after that, repairs were made to Marty's right leg and ankle. Both injuries were from the inward crushing of the front of the car during the severe impact of crashing end over end down the steep embankment before finally being stopped by an enormous tree. It was actually that big tree that prevented the car from winding up in the rush of water of the swollen torrent which would have been death for both agents.

Considering how badly the car's body had been crushed and torn apart, their teammates considered the pair to be most fortunate in escaping without even worse injury than they had sustained.

A few days later, when the two agents' pain medications were slightly decreased, they finally began to take a bit of notice of their surroundings. The room looked like a florist's shop. Flowers. Were. Everywhere! And assuredly, Hallmark's stock was on the rise because cards were taped every surface imaginable.

Abby had fun reading them to the two agents and showing them all the flowers and notes attached to them. Most of all, they appreciated arousing slightly and finding one or more of the team quietly sitting with them, just to be there for them, to be certain that they had everything they needed, someone to reassure them whenever needed, and most of all, to leave no doubt that the team had their backs, regardless of whatever the situation might be.

* * *

From the first moment that Tim's heavily drugged eyes had tried to open, he had been aware, in widely varying degrees, of an angel near his bed. He had only been aware of impressions at first, but he always hoped to see her whenever he swam up from the depths of the nothingness from blessed drugs that kept the majority of the pain at bay.

Dark blue eyes. A gentle smile. Soft chin-length blond hair that he knew just had to smell sweet and fresh.

His tongue simply either couldn't or wouldn't cooperate with him because the only sounds he could make sounded incomprehensible even to him.

As time slowly trudged past, the drugs were administered less frequently and in smaller doses and the first thing he did upon each awakening was to scan the room as best he could to see if she was present. Except those times when he needed to use the restroom facilities but he wasn't allowed out of bed. Those were the times he could feel high heat radiating off of his cheeks and ears when an orderly wasn't available to assist him.

He'd cross his arm across his chest - the other one was in a cast - and mutter darkly, "I'll wait." But sooner or later he had to give in. Some things simply can't be delayed forever.

He learned that the angel's name was Melody Carlisle and she seemed to find many excuses to come in and check on him. When her duties allowed, the nurse would stop in and just chat for a moment or two.

Marty observed sagely, "She's got her cap set for you, McGee. Better be careful!"

Invariable,Tim's face would wear a silly grin and his cheeks would flush pinkly, but he offered no denials or objections.

The two agents were especially glad that they were rooming together or the long boring hours would have driven both of them around the bend. Tony kept them supplied with plenty of DVDs and CDs which helped the glacially-paced minutes of the day pass a little easier.

Sometimes they just talked. About families, experiences growing up, favorite vacations, friends, early days with NCIS, bucket lists, etc.

Then came physical therapy. Rehab. Moving painful limbs to help complete the healing process and gaining strength and range-of-motion in now very weakened muscles and joints.

Tim would rather take on his worst nightmare than to go to the daily regimen of what he regarded as nothing less than torture.

Marty, on the other hand, would go with a strange mixture of eager anticipation and deep dread. The reason was his physical therapist, one Miss Sandra Cavanaugh. Dark brown hair, blue-gray eyes, petite, tough as nails when she had to be, fit and trim, a first lieutenant in the Marine Corps currently assigned to Bethesda Navy Medical Hospital.

Lt. Cavanaugh seemed to share Agent O'Brien's attraction. There seemed to be a touch that would linger a beat or two longer than necessary; an exchanged look that wasn't really called for. Their banter sometimes almost approached that of double entendre salted with good-natured humor thanks in part to Marty's natural quick wit and easy-going personality.

Tim wasn't much aware of O'Brien's interest in Sandy Cavanaugh because of the rigors his own PT put him through. Staff Sergeant Collin Bradley held none of the charms as Marty's counterpart, as thorough, knowledgeable and dedicated as he was. Tim had to admit that he was making excellent progress though some days when he was finally returned to his room, he felt as if he'd not make it to see tomorrow's sunrise.

Lt. Cavanaugh was no less lenient with her charge, but somehow Marty was distracted enough by her closeness, her touch and her voice that it didn't seem to carry the same degree of torture as did Tim's.

On more than one evening, usually fairly late, Lt. Cavanaugh appeared in the doorway of their room, asking Marty if he felt up to a slow lap down the hallway before lights out. No matter his pain or fatigue level, he never declined the offer. That was when Tim became fully aware of Marty's sincere, deepening interest in the very beautiful young woman.

If they couldn't sleep during the dark hours of the night, they'd quietly confide in each other about the two women who had fully captured their full attention while recovering from the awful injuries incurred in the wreck. They also repeatedly expressed their undying thanks to the two women on their team who had saved their lives on that fateful night.

* * *

Melody Carlisle had spent her entire lifetime working toward her goal of being the best nurse she could ever be. She had dated her share of men during college and afterward and, though there were some she really liked and a few she had been infatuated with, none ever came close to real love. Actually, they were more like friends rather than boyfriend material.

She had worked very hard in college where she majored in nursing, minored in Medical Science, graduating cum laude in both. Her parents had encouraged her to continue in medical school, but her heart was in nursing so that is the path she followed.

Her whole heart was in caring for people, doing those things for ones who couldn't do them for themselves. She could go home at the end of shift, gratified in her soul for being able to do it. A soft word, a gentle touch often meant everything to a patient. They knew that someone truly cared about them, that it wasn't just a job. Mel could close her eyes and see the look in their eyes as their hearts met on the battleground of sickness or injury.

Then, one day at work as she was going about her regular duties, she entered the room shared by two men who had been badly injured in a wreck. At times she caught a glimpse of light green eyes when the closed lids they lived behind briefly fluttered partially open.

She had been told that these two were federal agents with an agency she had never heard of. It must have been a pretty horrific wreck, as she had learned that they were very fortunate to have survived, thanks to two women with whom they worked. That piqued her interest even more, making her want to meet the two heroes and hear what they had done.

Mel felt she was unexpectedly at a major crossroads in her life. She was alone in the world since the passing of her parents. She would always miss her parents but since time had passed, she was coping and managing quite well.

Now that she had met Tim, she knew she'd never be the same. They had known each other for such a short time, yet, somehow, it was if they had always known each other. She couldn't even begin to understand it herself and couldn't begin to explain it to others. It just was. She didn't know when, but she knew with absolute certainty that she and Tim would marry.

He had a gentle soul and was good through to the middle and out the other side. Mel knew that it would be impossible for him to lie; it just wasn't in him to do that. He was witty and bright, interesting on so many levels. He laughed and made her laugh. But there was so much more to him. Intangibles that spoke to her heart and soul and made her love him that much more.

Everybody was warning to take it slow, to be careful, but she only wanted to rush into his arms and love him forever. If he asked her, she'd accept his proposal instantly.

* * *

Sandra Cavanaugh had joined the Marine Corps after obtaining a Bachelor of Medical Science degree, then spending three more years to earn a full degree in Physical Therapy.

It was a tough program but she'd persevered and had done it. She'd studied biology/anatomy, cellular histology, physiology, exercise physiology, bio-mechanics, kinesiology, neuroscience, pharmacology, pathology, behavior sciences, communication, ethics/values, management sciences, finance, sociology, clinical reasoning, evidence-based practucem cardiovascular and pulmonary, endocrine and metabolic, and musculoskeletal. It was the equivalent of a doctoral, but she was glad she had done it.

She had completed her residency requirements here at Bethesda and was happy to remain here. The wounded warriors who were the primary patients here needed her to have this knowledge in order to be able to do her best for them.

Heretofore she had done little more than work, work, then work some more. Sometimes a group from the PT department went out as a group to eat and have beer, but she'd not been attracted to anyone for more than a few days. She had begun to wonder about her self.

Then she met Special Agent Marty O'Brien and everything changed in about one-and-a-half nanoseconds. It was inexplicable how this man with the brilliant wit, warm and happy smile, combined with plain old-fashioned charm had taken over her mind and emotions, stealing her heart almost instantly.

Each day she looked forward to his appearance for his session with her in the big PT room and she was finding more and more difficult to keep herself in check. The very nature of Physical Therapy dictated that there would be constant personal contact, but she wanted to shut everyone else out and throw herself into his arms. She would daydream of how that might be like.

' _What is going on with me?' 'I can't believe I'm seriously entertaining these thoughts!' 'What about when he's discharged and gone?'_ Sandy wouldn't even let herself dwell on not seeing him day after day. If her thoughts strayed into that territory, she had to fight off a feeling of panic that wanted to envelope her. There's no way she'd let her brother know about this. He'd have a fit.

Navy Commander Joseph Cavanaugh had mostly raised his baby sister and the two had a very close relationship. Joe was an attorney assigned to JAG headquarters in Falls Church, VA close to DC. It was rare that the siblings didn't have dinner once or twice a week, or at least have lunch or a cup of coffee. His work took him so many places and there were always cases needing an attorney. He had very little free time.

Like her, Joe had primarily focused on his career, though he was Navy while she was happily in the Marines. He dated but there was nothing ever serious. Sandy wondered how he'd react if (when) she told him about Marty. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

She knew only one thing for certain. She could not live her life apart from Marty O'Brien. Commander Cavenaugh would just have to get used to it.

* * *

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continued

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	8. Chapter 8

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 3 Part 3

COLD CASES, WARM HEARTS

Chapter 8

Though still in their recovery stages, the two agents were eventually discharged from the hospital. They'd still report three times a week to continue therapy for the foreseeable future. Gibbs had decreed that the pair would stay at his home to make it easier for the team ( _read: him_ ) to keep close watch on them and they would have proper food instead of the steady diet of delivery food and beer they had planned on.

Molly and Sam Wolfe did the lion's share of cooking with a regular amazing Italian meal courtesy of their team leader. Jon would never insult them by offering anything he tried to 'cook', so he'd sometimes have a fabulous meal catered by one of their favorite restaurants.

Overhearing the two agents quietly talking about their new interests at the hospital, Molly made it a point to speak to the two women to invite them to come over for dinner on the upcoming Saturday evening, also making it clear that they were welcome at any time. She and Sam decided on a great menu and spent most of a day preparing it.

Table extended as long as all the extra leaves would make it, the two set it beautifully, complete with a lovely sparkling white linen cloth, highly polished silverware, Molly's prized crystal and tableware, tall white tapers and a long, low centerpiece of soft pastel flowers. The setting looked as if it would have been right at home in Buckingham Palace. It was soft and glowing but puncuated with sparkles captured from the tapers by the silver and crystal.

Everybody had been invited. The entire team and their guests, Ducky and Aneesa, Palmer and his wife Breena, and Director Morrow. Gibbs had remained determinedly silent and noncommital since he had been told of the plans. The women seemed to be having such great fun with the planning and preparation, he'd decided that he'd just grit his teeth and get through it as best he could. However, on the day of the dinner, there were some mouth-watering smells drifting through the house, whetting his appetite.

The previous day he had overheard his wife and Tony's date trying to decide what to make for dessert. After time passed with a lot of discussion but no decision, he told them with a growl, "Forget it! I got it!" as he disappeared down the basement stairs. Molly and Sam shrugged to each other, leaving it to the grumpy former Marine, hoping for the best.

Sam muttered under her breath, "What are we going to do with a sawdust cake?"

On Saturday evening, everybody oohed and ahhhed over the table setting and raved over the food. Gibbs had never experienced a combination of native Shawnee and Southern dishes before but even he had to admit it was really good. Conversation was lively and interesting and, though quiet, Gibbs was surprised to find himself enjoying the occasion as much as the others.

As the women began clearing the table for the mystery dessert, Gibbs went down to his basement and returned carrying a sizable white box he'd kept hidden all afternoon. He asked Molly for a big serving tray than shooed her back to the table. After a couple of minutes, he returned carrying an irresistable Tiramisu he had ordered. He and Molly shared a very special look that wasn't missed by the others. Sometimes, love simply can't be hidden.

After last cups of coffee or tea and delightful conversation in the living room, everyone began preparing to take their leave. Sam and Molly exchanged a happy grin and a hug, along with relieved giggles that there hadn't been sawdust cake to deal with after all. Nobody had to say a word; it was clear that every person had thoroughly enjoyed the meal and the evening.

After the guests left and Tim and Marty had retired to their rooms upstairs, Gibbs helped Molly load the dishwasher and put everything back where it belonged. House back in its normal pristine condition, Gibbs held Molly close for long, long moments. Then he murmured in her ear, "You and Sam put on a good feed, Molly-girl. Proud of ya!"

She grinned, "Thank you, Jethro. We had a blast doin' it. And that cake! Ya never disappoint me, ya know?"

"Hmph! Ya oughtta know that by now."

She giggled. "Roger that, Marine! Oohrah!"

Gibbs grinned. "Any cake left?"

"Yep. Want some?"

"Yep. Then - we might discuss what else I can be offered?"

"A distinct possibility, now that you mention it."

* * *

McGee and O'Brien were eventually cleared to return to work for desk duty for some weeks, then later into the field when they were back at full strength. The team was really glad to have them back. They had had a number of cases during the agents' convalescence and working short-handed meant some long hours. Yes, each had formerly been accustomed to working with a four-man team, but they had now become used to working as a six-man team, each with his or her own specialty. It felt so good to return to "normal."

* * *

Tim knew he had loved Delilah with as much love as he believed he had in him. But he didn't know the full depths of love until he met Melody Carlisle. Even Tony was quietly advising him to back off a little and take a deep breath. "You know I've had experience in this, McLoverBoy, so listen to me."

"Tony, I can't explain this to myself so how can I explain it to you? It is what it is and I never want to be without it in my remaining lifetime. It took Mel to show me what love can truly be. I've grabbed hold of it with both hands and I'm not letting go." Green eyes gazed steadily at Tony without blinking.

"Okay, Tim. But - just be careful, hear? I - I don't want my Probie paralyzed with depression if this doesn't work out the way you want. Nothing against Mel; she's a great person and I like her. I'm just concerned about you."

"Thanks, Tony, but I'm good. Really good for once!"

Tony sighed. "Okay, McHeadOverHeels. Just want you to know I'm here for you."

Tim smiled. "I know, Tony. And thanks." He turned to his desk and began flipping through the folder of his latest cold case.

* * *

Like Tim and Melody, Marty and Sandy spent every minute possible with each other. At their first opportunity, Sandy introduced Marty to her brother and was grateful when the two hit it off quite well from the very beginning. Commander Joe Cavanaugh had asked the questions a concerned older brother could be expected to ask and Marty had answered in total honesty, earning himself respect in the process.

Sandy and Melody had become good friends with each other and had also been welcomed into the team circle. It wasn't always easy to get everyone's schedule to cooperate, but when possible, the entire group spent a great evening together for a meal either at a restaurant or at a super-fun pot-luck dinner at the Gibbs home where each person brought something. At times they had an extremely interesting array of food!

On this latest occasion, Gibbs, quietly sitting beside Molly with his arm across her shoulders, took careful notice of each person sitting before the fireplace. What a complete change for him. He had expected to spend his later years in solitude, probably in his basement, living in a bottle of bourbon with the ghosts in his past.

But look at his home now. Filled with people he actually liked and enjoyed, listening to happy chatter and laughter, an incredibly cherished, beautiful woman by his side. He was relaxed and at ease, he enjoyed his work, and life couldn't be better for him.

His thoughts drifted back to Wilmington when Tom Morrow had sent his team to take part in a massive DEA operation. He'd had no idea that things would change so very much for himself, Tony, Tim and Molly. Then, in time, their circle had expanded to include Jon Cartwright, Marty O'Brien and Sam Wolfe. Now it had expanded again to include the women the McGee and O'Brien had fallen in love with. There would undoubtedly be weddings in the near future, as well. That was alright, too. Then probably kids sometime later. Maybe he'd better start thinking about designing a treehouse for the backyard.

* * *

Molly glanced at her husband close beside her, seeing a soft smile playing around his mouth. _'What's he thinking about?'_ she wondered. Whatever it was, he was enjoying it so she'd not interrupt his thoughts. He'd tell her whenever he was ready.

How her life had changed! Beginning when this wonderful, handsome, silver-haired man had walked into the DEA office in Wilmington so long ago. She would never have believed her life could ever be so rich and rewarding as it was now. Jethro, Tony, Tim. Then Ducky, Jimmy and Breena. Dave Holland and Abby. Jon Cartwright. Aneesa. Tom Morrow. Marty. Samantha. Melody and Sandy. And so many others.

It hadn't been an easy path, but all of them had successfully made it.

So very many changes. NCIS itself was changed, operating in different quarters with a greatly enhanced staff and plenty of room for everyone to work.

Autopsy was now staffed with Dr. Donald Mallard, Chief Medical Examiner; Dr. James Palmer, Deputy Chief ME; Dr. Jordan Hampton, ME; Dr. Richard Conrad, ME; and Dr. Robert Allen, ME; plus an assistant for each brought the Autopsy team up from two to ten.

The Lab was likewise staffed, headed by Dr. Dave Holland, Chief of Forensic Science; Abby Sciuto, Deputy Chief Scientist, two additional scientists and an assistant for each of the four.

Gibbs' administrative assistant, Helen Baker, was a calm, good-natured woman who never got ruffled by her usually gruff boss. She'd just smile and go about her business. It wasn't long before she had begun to gain Gibbs' trust and became a good friend of Molly's. Helen, a young widow, was usually on-hand when any gathering took place.

Director Morrow's assistant was most pleasant but she was married with children so she wasn't free to socialize as the others were. Tom Morrow, always able to separate his business self from his personal self, often was included in their number and was as welcome and accepted as any other of the group.

When the weather was good, Gibbs would sometimes host a huge cook-out in his big backyard, inviting John Balboa's team and Johansson's team, along with Tony's and the others.

At one such gathering, Gibbs brought Morrow another beer along with one for himself and sat in companionable silence in the wide swing suspended from a great bough of one of the trees. The two quietly watched all the agents and friends having a great time with each other, talking and laughing. They'd occasionally exchange a small smile as they observed.

After a time, Morrow muttered quietly, "Good bunch we got here, Gibbs."

The former Marine growled back, "Yeah. They'll take care of each other when we're gone."

Morrow nodded as he sipped the cold beer.

Another quiet bit of time passed when Morrow asked, "Mind if I ask a personal question, Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned appraising blue eyes on his boss and friend. "Ask but ya might not get an answer."

"Fair enough. How on God's green earth did you ever convince Mac to marry you? You didn't exactly have a stellar track record."

Gibbs just grinned wryly. "Got lucky, I guess."

Morrow studied his friend with a wry smile of his own, responding with a brief, "Yeah, you sure did."

"Hungry?" Gibbs asked to change the subject.

"Starving. Let's eat while there's still something left."

* * *

Roger was totally happy with his life. First there was his human called Molly. She would forever be number one in his life, though his other human called Jethro was next best. And his friend Mr. Jenkins with whom he visited regularly.

He also accompanied his human called Molly on the jet whenever the Director had to travel. He was the official Bomb Sniffer and took great care in his responsibilities. As soon as everything was cleared and Director Morrow was allowed to board, Roger took his customary place under the table with his chin resting on the top of one of the Director's shiny black shoes. The two had become very good friends. In their new field office, Roger had the run of the place if he wanted and frequently stuck his nose into the Director's office for a moment to get a soothing scratch behind his right ear before moving on to visit someone else or to head back to check on his human.

Though he was welcome anywhere in the building, Roger's favorite place was still in the bullpen beside Molly's desk and work area. At times, he'd still dream of a place where the two of them had lived together in the forest, but that dream usually turned into a terrible nightmare from which he'd awaken with mournful howls or remembered pain and loss. During those times, even at the office, Molly would quickly sit beside him, holding as much of him as would fit on her small lap, comforting him, reassuring him, until the horrible memories faded and he was again calm.

He had proved himself valuable in controlling prisoners, in searching out potential evidence, and tracking, though nothing would take precedence over protecting his human called Molly.

* * *

Molly was finding that with the team's additional weekends free from duty, she wasn't feeling as pressed for time to be with those with whom she was close, and no longer felt it necessary to resign any of the positions she held in NCIS. She and Tim still flew the Detail and the Director wherever he needed to go, so that satisfied her desire to continue as Captain of Gulfstream One-Niner Foxtrot, and she still served on Tony's team as an agent and part of the Detail when not flying. Jethro was satisfied with the current arrangements and they still had their evenings together, plus four out of six weekends.

She spent time with her adopted mother, Aneesa, and the two couldn't be any closer than they were. Aneesa was stilled thrilled to be the wife of her Donald, making certain that every tiny detail was taken care of so when he was home - which was more and more - he had nothing to do except what he wanted to do.

Dr. and Mrs. Mallard sometimes entertained in their beautiful home and an invitation to any event the Mallard's hosted was highly prized and eagerly sought after. Aneesa's warm personality and quiet graciousness made her an extraordinary hostess and her adoring Donald was so very proud of her.

She also loved going shopping with the daughter-of-her-heart. The two never failed to have a wonderful time with each other regardless of the success of the shopping trip. Shopping always included a long lunch where they sat across a table from each other, just talking and enjoying being with each other. Aneesa still depended on Molly's guidance when buying new clothes. That was the one area in which she still lacked confidence.

To Aneesa, America was an everyday miracle. She was free to do pretty much whatever she wanted and that still amazed her. Her kind and gentle husband treated her like a queen and she was so happy she sometimes thought that she just couldn't contain it.

Molly also found time to spend with Casey. Doing brilliantly in Aeronautical Engineering at university, the girl who had once been a hopeless runaway juvenile delinquent headed into a life of semi-slavery at the hands of organized crime, was now headed for the stars. Her intelligence, dedication and determination was seeing to that. The two would take Charlie up as often as they could, happy to be just sharing the joy of aviation together in the sky.

Molly was the one person Casey relied on to advise her on the various options for a career in aviation. She could be a FBO - a Fixed Base Operator - like Mike back in Wilmington. She could be an instructor in each area of her various licenses. There were the airlines. Military aviation. Corporate pilots were hired and flew for big companies. Large aircraft corporations, such as Gulfstream, Piper Aircraft and others, required pilots not only to ferry aircraft from point A to point B, but to train and certify other pilots on each type of aircraft the corporation built and sold. Many wealthy people retained their own flight crews. Other simply leased pilots with the aircraft.

Casey wisely listened to her friend and mentor, investigating and considering each possibility. In later years she would become one of the highly regarded officers in the United States Navy, flying fast attack jets, serving time as a carrier pilot, even earning her own command when the time came. She followed her dream all because the first female pilot she'd ever seen took time to be kind to a totally confused, lost young girl.

* * *

The Aviation Division of NCIS very slowly but steadily grew under Molly's guidance as Chief Pilot of the Division. As she began to get more pressed for time, she asked Tim to step in as Deputy Chief. Splitting the duties, the pair were sure and steady hands in the development of this fledgling segment of NCIS. Director Morrow had a new gold emblem, small but distinctive, incorporating the agency's acronym with a pair of wings for those who had earned them to wear as lapel pins or as most suitable. Those of the two chiefs were crowned by a half-circle wreath capped by a small star.

The Director had even had a nice space converted into an office/ground school training space for them to use. The first time the two approached the door and read the neat gold writing on the frosted glass 'NCIS Aviation Division' and their names below it, made both of them stop and take a deep breath. Somehow this made everything feel 'more real'. Sure they had been doing this a while, but now, it was different. It was almost as if they were now actual, real-life heads of this new department that they had formed together and training all new additions would be strictly up to them. They set the standards, they interviewed and researched each NCIS applicant. That was one thing they had immediately agreed upon: each applicant had to be or have served as a field agent.

Molly and Tim worked hard mapping out minimum requirements for those who applied and training those who were qualified. It was a tough course because they wanted only the best - and that's what they got. Not every applicant was approved or passed the training. Both of the agents took turns training agent-pilots on the Gulfstream, each trainee serving as co-pilot on actual flights when he reached a certain competency level.

As often as possible, the two chief pilots elected to fly the Director themselves simply because they missed each other in the cockpit. They loved flying together! Molly reminded Tim that they could take some of that book money each had and either lease or buy a Gulfstream and open a charter service - to anywhere in the world. They certainly had the experience and clients would flock to fly with the famous crew of Gulfstream 7700. They kept it in mind, but, for the time being, were unable to break away from their team and friends. Maybe the time would come but now just yet.

So much had happened in the past, but there was so much more to look forward to in the future.

~ Finis ~

* * *

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